Turn On The Prudent Ant, Thy Heedful

Contempt Is A Kind Of Gangrene Which, If It Seizes One Part Of A Character, Corrupts All The Rest By Degrees.

In The Condition Of Men, It Frequently Happens That Grief And Anxiety Lie Hid Under The Golden Robes Of Prosperity; And The Gloom Of Calamity Is Cheered By Secret Radiations Of Hope And Comfort; As In The Works Of Nature, The Bog Is Sometimes Covered With Flowers, And The Mine Concealed In The Barren Crags.

To Keep Your Secret Is Wisdom; But To Expect Others To Keep It Is Folly.

My Dear Friend, Clear Your Mind Of Can't.

Still We Love The Evil We Do, Until We Suffer It.