Fuss Is The Froth Of Business.

But Evil Is Wrought By Want Of Thought, As Well As Want Of Heart!

No Blessed Leisure For Love Or Hope, But Only Time For Grief.

To Attempt To Advise Conceited People Is Like Whistling Against The Wind.

While The Steeples Are Loud In Their Joy, To The Tune Of The Bells' Ring-a-ding, Let Us Chime In A Peal, One And All, For We All Should Be Able To Sing Hullah Baloo.

Well For The Drones Of The Social Hive That There Are Bees Of An Industrious Turn, Willing, For An Infinitesimal Share Of The Honey, To Undertake The Labor Of Its Fabrication.