A Good Cook Is The Peculiar Gift

Immoderate Power, Like Other Intemperance, Leaves The Progeny Weaker And Weaker, Until Nature As In Compassion Covers It With Her Mantle And It Is Seen No More.

There Is Delight In Singing, Though None Hear Beside The Singer.

Where Power Is Absent We May Find The Robe Of Genius, But We Miss The Throne.

Something Of The Severe Hath Always Been Appertaining To Order And To Grace; And The Beauty That Is Not Too Liberal Is Sought The Most Ardently, And Loved The Longest.

The Happy Never Say, And Never Hear Said, Farewell.