Delay In Justice Is Injustice.

Justice Is Often Pale And Melancholy; But Gratitude, Her Daughter, Is Constantly In The Flow Of Spirits And The Bloom Of Loveliness.

Merit Has Rarely Risen Of Itself, But A Pebble Or A Twig Is Often Quite Sufficient For It To Spring From To The Highest Ascent. There Is Usually Some Baseness Before There Is Any Elevation.

Cats Like Men Are Flatterers.

To My Ninth Decade I Have Totter'd On, And No Soft Arm Bends Now My Steps To Steady; She, Who Once Led Me Where She Would, Is Gone, So When He Calls Me, Death Shall Find Me Ready.

I Warmed Both Hands Before The Fire Of Life; It Sinks, And I Am Ready To Depart.