Those Who Love Are But One Step

No Mud Can Soil Us But The Mud We Throw.

Before Man Made Us Citizens, Great Nature Made Us Men.

A Wise Man Travels To Discover Himself.

A Sneer Is The Weapon Of The Weak. Like Other Devil's Weapons, It Is Always Cunningly Ready To Our Hand, And There Is More Poison In The Handle Than In The Point.

Hush! Still As Death, The Tempest Holds His Breath As From A Sudden Will; The Rain Stops Short, But From The Eaves You See It Drop, And Hear It From The Leaves, All Is So Bodingly Still.