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• Oh stay! oh stay! Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that oh 't is pain To break its links so soon.
  -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- Fly not ye...
• Fly not yet; 't is just the hour When pleasure, like the midnight flower That scorns the eye of vulgar light, Begins to bloom for sons of night And maids who love the moon.
  -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- Fly not ye...
• Oh, weep for the hour When to Eveleen's bower The lord of the valley with false vows came.
  -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- Eveleen's Bowe...
• Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving?
  Leaves, like the things of man, You, with your fresh thoughts Care for, can you?...
• When did morning ever break, And find such beaming eyes awake?
  -- Thomas Moore (1779-1852) -- Fly not ye...
• It was the saying of Bion, that though the boys throw stones at frogs in sport, yet the frogs do not die in sport but in earnest.
  -- Plutarch (46-120 AD) -- Which are the most crafty, Water or Land Animals? 7...
• Sorry Pee-Wee', that's not an exibition sport yet.
• Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! Ah, fields beloved in vain!
  Where once my careless childhood stray'd, A stranger yet to pain!...
• To each his suff'rings; all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan,-- The tender for another's pain, Th' unfeeling for his own.
  Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies?...