For My Part I Think It Is

Poverty Comes Pleading Not For Charity, For The Most Part, But Imploring Us To Find A Purchaser For Its Unmarketable Wares.

Every Man Is An Omnibus In Which His Ancestors Ride.

The Character Of Every Act Depends Upon The Circumstances In Which It Is Done.

Every Now And Then A Man's Mind Is Stretched By A New Idea Or Sensation, And Never Shrinks Back To Its Former Dimensions.

The Foliage Has Been Losing Its Freshness Through The Month Of August, And Here And There A Yellow Leaf Shows Itself Like The First Gray Hair Amidst The Locks Of A Beauty Who Has Seen One Season Too Many.