Fortune To One Is Mother, To Another

A Poore Mans Cow Dies A Rich Mans Child.

Money, Thou Bane Of Bliss, And Source Of Woe, Whence Cam'st Thou, That Thou Art So Fresh And Fine? I Know Thy Parentage Is Base And Low: Man Found Thee Poor And Dirty In A Mine.

Only A Sweet And Virtuous Soul, Like Seasoned Timber, Never Gives.

Quick Beleevers Neede Broad Shoulders.

Persons Unmask Their Evilest Qualities When They Do Quarrel.