The Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a shepherd's care; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye. - Joseph Addison

How beautiful is death, when earn'd by virtue! Who would not be that youth? What pity is it That we can die but once to serve our country!

Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk,
Still he can nothing but of Nævia talk:
Let him eat, drink, ask Questions, or dispute,
Still he must speak of Nævia, or be mute.
He writ to his Father, ending with this Line,
I am, my Lovely Nævia, ever thine.

I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds than of cherries, and very frankly give them fruit for their songs.