Cats Don't Caress Us-they Caress Themselves On

Tenderness Is The Infancy Of Love.

The Mischief Of Children Is Seldom Actuated By Malice; That Of Grown-up People Always Is.

There Is Nothing So Unready As Readiness Of Wit.

That Which Happens To The Soil When It Ceases To Be Cultivated By The Social Man Happens To Man Himself When He Foolishly Forsakes Society For Solitude; The Brambles Grow Up In His Desert Heart.

There Are Men Who Gain From Their Wealth Only The Fear Of Losing It.