Every Man For Himself.

Little Liberties Are Great Offenses.

The Unhappy Derive Comfort From The Misfortunes Of Others.

There Was Once A Bald Man Who Sat Down After Work On A Hot Summer's Day. A Fly Came Up And Kept Buzzing About His Bald Pate, And Stinging Him From Time To Time. The Man Aimed A Blow At His Little Enemy, But — Whack — His Palm Came On His Head Instead; Again The Fly Tormented Him, But This Time The Man Was Wiser And Said: You Will Only Injure Yourself If You Take Notice Of Dispicable Enemies.

The Fly Sat Upon The Axel-tree Of The Chariot-wheel And Said, 'what A Dust Do I Raise!'

If You Are Wise You Won't Be Deceived By The Innocent Airs Of Those Whom You Have Once Found To Be Dangerous.