Time Rolls His Ceaseless Course.

Vacant Heart, And Hand, And Eye, Easy Live And Quiet Die.

He Who Indulges His Sense In Any Excesses Renders Himself Obnoxious To His Own Reason; And, To Gratify The Brute In Him, Displeases The Man, And Sets His Two Natures At Variance.

When A Man Has Not A Good Reason For Doing A Thing, He Has One Good Reason For Letting It Alone.

As Good Play For Nothing, You Know, As Work For Nothing.

Meat Eaten Without Either Mirth Or Music Is Ill Of Digestion.