A Rogue Is A Roundabout Fool.

Acquaintance Many, And Conquaintance Few, But For Inquaintance I Know Only Two - The Friend I've Wept And The Maid I Woo.

All Nature Seems At Work. Slugs Leave Their Lair The Bees Are Stirring, Birds Are On The Wing, And Winter Slumbering In The Open Air, Wears On His Smiling Face A Dream Of Spring.

A Man Of Maxims Only Is Like A Cyclops With One Eye, And That In The Back Of His Head.

The Book Of Job Is Pure Arab Poetry Of The Highest And Most Antique Cast.

Swiftly, Swiftly Flew The Ship, Yet She Sailed Softly Too: Sweetly, Sweetly Blew The Breeze - On Me Alone It Blew.