How Difficult It Is To Save The

My Flowery And Green Age Was Passing Away, And I Feeling A Chill In The Fires Had Been Wasting My Heart, For I Was Drawing Near The Hillside Above The Grave.

Do You Suppose There Is Any Living Man So Unreasonable That If He Found Himself Stricken With A Dangerous Ailment He Would Not Anxiously Desire To Regain The Blessing Of Health?

There Is No Lighter Burden, Nor More Agreeable, Than A Pen.

Sameness Is The Mother Of Disgust, Variety The Cure.

Suspicion Is The Cancer Of Friendship.