Art Hath An Enemy Called Ignorance.

Power Is Not Sufficient Evidence Of Truth.

Spring Is The Season Of Gaiety, And Winter Of Terror; In Spring The Heart Of Tranquility Dances To The Melody Of The Groves, And The Eye Of Benevolence Sparkles At The Sight Of Happiness And Plenty: In Winter, Compassion Melts At Universal Calamity, And The Tear Of Softness Starts At The Wailing Of Hunger And The Cries Of The Creation In Distress

In Traveling, A Man Must Carry Knowledge With Him, If He Would Bring Home Knowledge.

There Is Not, Perhaps, To A Mind Well Instructed, A More Painful Occurrence, Than The Death Of One We Have Injured Without Reparation.

There Are Minds So Impatient Of Inferiority That Their Gratitude Is A Species Of Revenge, And They Return Benefits, Not Because Recompense Is A Pleasure, But Because Obligation Is A Pain.