Rest Is The Sweet Sauce Of Labor.

If We Traverse The World, It Is Possible To Find Cities Without Walls, Without Letters, Without Kings, Without Wealth, Without Coin, Without Schools And Theatres; But A City Without A Temple, Or That Practiseth Not Worship, Prayer, And The Like, No One Ever Saw.

Hesiod Might As Well Have Kept His Breath To Cool His Pottage.

Seeing The Lightest And Gayest Purple Was Then Most In Fashion, He Would Always Wear That Which Was The Nearest Black; And He Would Often Go Out Of Doors, After His Morning Meal, Without Either Shoes Or Tunic; Not That He Sought Vain-glory From Such Novelties, But He Would Accustom Himself To Be Ashamed Only Of What Deserves Shame, And To Despise All Other Sorts Of Disgrace.

What Sort Of Tree Is There Which Will Not, If Neglected, Grow Crooked And Unfruitful; What But Will, If Rightly Ordered, Prove Productive And Bring Its Fruit To Maturity? What Strength Of Body Is There Which Will Not Lose Its Vigor And Fall To Decay By Laziness, Nice Usage, And Debauchery?

He Who Reflects On Another Man's Want Of Breeding, Shows He Wants It As Much Himself