How Awful To Reflect That What People

We Should Nourish Our Souls On The Dew Of Poesy, And Manure Them As Well.

Hearts That Are Delicate And Kind And Tongues That Are Neither - These Make The Finest Company In The World.

Growing Old Is Not A Gradual Decline, But A Series Of Drops, Full Of Sorrow, From One Ledge To Another Below It.

It's An Odd Thing About This Universe That, Though We All Disagree With Each Other, We Are All Of Us Always In The Right.

But Man Is Above All A Social And Political Animal; His Relations With His Fellow Human Beings Form His Most Absorbing And Important Interest.