There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men. A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell. But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

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You gave me the key to your heart, my love, then why did you make me knock?

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When people say, "I've told you fifty times," They mean to scold, and very often do; When poets say, "I've written fifty rhymes," They make you dread that they'll recite them too; In gangs of fifty, thieves commit their crimes; At fifty love for love is rare, 't is true, but then, no doubt, it equally as true is, a good deal may be bought for fifty Louis.

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They used to say that knowledge is power. I used to think so, but I know now they mean money.

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Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers.

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Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.

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Let joy be unconfined.

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Adversity is the first path to truth.

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This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.

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But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

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