Books Delight To The Very Marrow Of

They Fought Indeed And Were Slain, But It Was To Maintain The Luxury And The Wealth Of Other Men.

Vos Vestros Servate, Meos Mihi Linquite Mores You Keep To Your Own Ways, And Leave Mine To Me

When A Man's Eyes Are Sore His Friends Do Not Let Him Finger Them, However Much He Wishes To, Nor Do They Themselves Touch The Inflammation: But A Man Sunk In Grief Suffers Every Chance Comer To Stir And Augment His Affliction Like A Running Sore; And By Reason Of The Fingering And Consequent Irritation It Hardens Into A Serious And Intractable Evil.

Painting Is Silent Poetry.

Nothing Is Harder To Direct Than A Man In Prosperity; Nothing More Easily Managed That One Is Adversity.