Tis late to hearken, late to smile/But better late than never/ I shall have lived a little while/Before I die forever.
The stars have not dealt me the worst they could do/My pleasures are plenty, my troubles are two/ But oh my two troubles they reave me of rest/ The brains in my head the the heart ...
In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning.
Change this and that and try again. Duis mollis, est non commodo luctus, nisi erat porttitor ligula, eget lacinia odio sem nec elit. Cras mattis consectetur purus sit amet fermentum.