Like The Dew On The Mountain, Like

If You Once Turn On Your Side After The Hour At Which You Ought To Rise, It Is All Over. Bolt Up At Once.

Sordid Selfishness Doth Contract And Narrow Our Benevolence, And Cause Us, Like Serpents, To Infold Ourselves Within Ourselves, And To Turn Out Our Stings To The Entire World Besides.

And Children Know, Instinctive Taught, The Friend And Foe.

Adversity Is Like The Period Of The Rain. . . Cold, Comfortless, Unfriendly To People And To Animals; Yet From That Season Have Their Birth The Flower, The Fruit, The Date, The Rose And The Pomegranate.

Chess Is A Sad Waste Of Brains.