They Who Are Sad Find Somehow Sweetness

I Care For Riches, To Make Gifts To Friends, Or Lead A Sick Man Back To Health With Ease And Plenty. Else Small Aid Is Wealth For Daily Gladness; Once A Man Be Done With Hunger, Rich And Poor Are All As One.

Love Must Not Touch The Marrow Of The Soul. Our Affections Must Be Breakable Chains That We Can Cast Them Off Or Tighten Them.

For The Weariest Road That Man May Wend Is Forth Fromn The Home Of His Father.

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

To A Father Growing Old Nothing Is Dearer Than A Daughter.