Bad Taste Is A Species Of Bad

Tis But A Short Journey Across The Isthmus Of Now.

Wit Is Better As A Seasoning Than As A Whole Dish By Itself.

To Death We Owe Our Life; The Passing Of One Generation Opens A Way For Another.

A Mother's Love Is Indeed The Golden Link That Binds Youth To Age; And He Is Still But A Child, However Time May Have Furrowed His Cheek, Or Silvered His Brow, Who Can Yet Recall, With A Softened Heart, The Fond Devotion, Or The Gentle Chidings, Of The Best Friend That God Gives Us.

Common Sense, Alas In Spite Of Our Educational Institutions, Is A Rare Commodity.