Be Noble Minded! Our Own Heart, And

The Great Happiness Of Life, I Find, After All, To Consist In The Regular Discharge Of Some Mechanical Duty.

What Reason, Like The Careful Ant, Draws Laboriously Together, The Wind Of Accident Sometimes Collects In A Moment.

Deaf Rage That Hears No Leader.

Art Is The Right Hand Of Nature. The Latter Has Only Given Us Being, The Former Has Made Us Men.

O Who Knows What Slumbers In The Background Of The Times?