Good Sense And Good Nature Are Never

Those Who Write Ill, And They Who Ne'er Durst Write, Turn Critics Out Of Mere Revenge And Spite.

Dead Men Tell No Tales.

When He Spoke, What Tender Words He Used! So Softly, That Like Flakes Of Feathered Snow, They Melted As They Fell.

More Liberty Begets Desire Of More; The Hunger Still Increases With The Store

God Never Made His Work For Man To Mend.