Every Man Is Full Of Music; But

The Fear Of Doing Right Is The Grand Treason In Times Of Danger.

It Is The End Of Art To Inoculate Men With The Love Of Nature. But Those Who Have A Psssion For Nature In The Natural Way, Need No Pictures Nor Gallereies. Spring Is Their Designer, And The Whole Year Their Artist.

As Long As Society Is Absolutely Divided As Milk Is, The Cream Being At The Top And The Impoverished Milk At The Bottom, So Long Will Society Be Unbalanced, And Liable To Be Thrown Into Convulsions Out Of Which Will Spring Wars. A Circulation Throughout Keeps It In Health.

The Natural Term Of An Apple-pie Is But Twelve Hours. It Reaches Its Highest State About One Hour After It Comes From The Oven, And Just Before Its Natural Heat Has Quite Departed. But Every Hour Afterward Is A Declension. And After It Is One Day Old, It Is Thence-forward But The Ghastly Corpse Of Apple-pie.

Blessed Are The Happiness-makers! Blessed Are They That Take Away Attritions, That Remove Friction, That Make The Courses Of Life Smooth, And The Intercourse Of Men Gentle!