Party-spirit At Best Is But The Madness

Ask For What End The Heavenly Bodies Shine, Earth For Whose Use? Pride Answers, 'tis For Mine For Me Kind Nature Wakes Her Genial Power, Suckles Each Herb, And Spreads Out Every Flower.

As The Twig Is Bent, So Grows The Tree.

The Worst Of Madmen Is A Saint Run Mad.

Expression Is The Dress Of Thought.

They Dream In Courtship, But In Wedlock Wake.