A Good Man's Fortune May Grow Out

A Sentence Is But A Cheveril Glove To A Good Wit; How Quickly The Wrong Side May Be Turned Outward!

It Warms The Very Sickness In My Heart, That I Shall Live And Tell Him To His Teeth, "thus Diddest Thou;"

Robust Grass Endures Mighty Winds; Loyal Ministers Emerge Through Ordeal.

O, What Men Dare Do! What Men May Do! What Men Daily Do, Not Knowing What They Do.

Merrily, Merrily Shall I Live Now, Under The Blossom That Hangs On The Bough.