Many, Many Steeples Would Have To Be

Death Walks Faster Than The Wind And Never Returns What He Has Taken.

Far Away, Where The Swallows Take Refuge In Winter, Lived A King Who Had Eleven Sons And One Daughter, Elise. The Eleven Brothers--they Were All Princes--used To Go To School With Stars On Their Breasts And Swords At Their Sides. They Wrote Upon Golden Slates With Diamond Pencils, And Could Read Just As Well Without A Book As With One, So There Was No Mistake About Their Being Princes. Their Sister Elise Sat Upon A Little Footstool Of Looking-glass, And She Has A Picture-book Which Had Cost The Half Of A Kingdom. Oh, These Children Were Very Happy; But It Was Not To Last Thus Forever.

Every Man's Life Is A Fairy Tale Written By God's Fingers.

Every Town, Like Every Man, Has Its Own Countenance; They Have A Common Likeness And Yet Are Different; One Keeps In His Mind All Their Peculiar Touches.

I Covet Honour In The Same Way As A Miser Covets Gold.