What Lovely Things Thy Hand Hath Made.

The Only Catalogue Of This World's Goods That Really Counts Is That Which We Keep In The Silence Of The Mind.

As Long As I Live I Shall Always Be My Self - And No Other, Just Me.

It Was A Pity Thoughts Always Ran The Easiest Way, Like Water In Old Ditches.

Three Jolly Huntsmen, In Coats Of Red, Rode Their Horses Up To Bed.

Oh, Pity The Poor Glutton Whose Troubles All Begin In Struggling On And On To Turn What's Out Into What's In.