I Loathe A Friend Whose Gratitude Grows

To Every Man, Even Though He Be A Slave, The Light Of Heaven Is Sweet.

I Loathe A Friend Whose Gratitude Grows Old, A Friend Who Takes His Friend's Prosperity But Will Not Voyage With Him In His Grief

If God Is Truly God, He Is Perfect, Lacking Nothing.

No Man On Earth Is Truly Free, All Are Slaves Of Money Or Necessity. Public Opinion Or Fear Of Prosecution Forces Each One, Against His Conscience, To Conform.

When A Good Man Is Hurt, All Who Would Be Called Good Must Suffer With Him.