In Every Age And Clime We See

Thus Shadow Owes Its Birth To Light.

There Is No Dependence That Can Be Sure But A Dependence Upon One's Self.

To Shoot At Crows Is Powder Flung Away.

Is There No Hope? The Sick Man Said, The Silent Doctor Shook His Head, And Took His Leave With Signs Of Sorrow, Despairing Of His Fee To-morrow.

No Author Ever Spar'd A Brother.