Wit Gives An Edge To Sense, And

The Tallest Trees Are Most In The Power Of The Winds, And Ambitious Men Of The Blasts Of Fortune.

A Vain Man Is A Nauseous Creature: He Is So Full Of Himself That He Has No Room For Anything Else, Be It Never So Good Or Deserving.

It Is Wise Not To Seek A Secret, And Honest Not To Reveal One.

Death Is But Crossing The World, As Friends Do The Seas; They Live In One Another Still. For They Must Needs Be Present, That Love And Live In That Which Is Omnipresent. In This Divine Glass, They See Face To Face; And Their Converse Is Free As Well As Pure. This Is The Comfort Of Friends, That Though They May Be Said To Die, Yet Their Friendship And Society Are, In The Best Sense, Ever Present, Because Immortal.

The Public Must And Will Be Served.