Our Lives Are But Our Marches To

You Are No Better Than You Should Be.

There Is A Method In Man's Wickedness; It Grows Up By Degrees.

Grace Comes Often Clad In The Dusky Robe Of Desolation.

If Men Wound You With Injuries, Meet Them With Patience; Hasty Words Rankle The Wound, Soft Language Dresses It, Forgiveness Cures It, And Oblivion Takes Away The Scar. It Is More Noble By Silence To Avoid An Injury Than By Argument To Overcome It.

As Men Do Walk A Mile, Women Should Talk An Hour, After Supper. 'tis Their Exercise.