Beware The Fury Of A Patient Man.

Every Language Is So Full Of Its Own Proprieties That What Is Beautiful In One Is Often Barbarous, Nay, Sometimes Nonsense, In Another.

Happy The Man, And Happy He Alone, He Who Can Call Today His Own; He Who, Secure Within, Can Say, Tomorrow Do Thy Worst, For I Have Lived Today.

Men's Virtues I Have Commended As Freely As I Have Taxed Their Crimes.

For Every Inch That Is Not Fool, Is Rogue.

He Trudged Along Unknowing What He Sought, And Whistled As He Went, For Want Of Thought.