The Well Of True Wit Is Truth

Behold The Life At Ease; It Drifts, The Sharpened Life Commands Its Course.

I Know Him, February's Thrush, And Loud At Eve He Valentines On Sprays That Paw The Naked Bush Where Soon Will Sprout The Thorns And Bines.

We Never Know What's In Us Till We Stand By Ourselves.

The Man Who Has No Mind Of His Own Lends It To The Priests.

We Know The Degree Of Refinement In People By The Matter They Laugh At And The Ring Of The Laugh.