Apothegms Form A Short Cut To Much

Peace And Rest At Length Have Come, All The Day's Long Toil Is Past; And Each Heart Is Whispering, "home, Home At Last!"

Alas For The Rarity Of Christian Charity Under The Sun!

Mother Of Light! How Fairly Dost Thou Go Over Those Hoary Crests, Divinely Led! Art Thou That Huntress Of The Silver Bow Fabled Of Old? Or Rather Dost Thou Tread Those Cloudy Summits Thence To Gaze Below, Like The Wild Chamois From Her Alpine Snow, Where Hunters Never Climbed--secure From Dread?

There Are Three Things Which The Public Will Always Clamour For, Sooner Or Later; Namely: Novelty, Novelty, Novelty.

He Lies Like A Hedgehog Rolled Up The Wrong Way, Tormenting Himself With His Prickles.