Promising Is The Eve Of Giving.

Money, Thou Bane Of Bliss, And Source Of Woe, Whence Cam'st Thou, That Thou Art So Fresh And Fine? I Know Thy Parentage Is Base And Low: Man Found Thee Poor And Dirty In A Mine.

We Batchelors Laugh And Shew Our Teeth, But You Married Men Laugh Till Your Hearts Ake.

Who Hath Bitter In His Mouth, Spits Not All Sweet.

Goods Are Theirs That Enjoy Them.

True Beauty Dwells On High: Ours Is A Flame But Borrowed Thence To Light Us Thither. Beauty And Beauteous Words Should Go Together.