Good Workemen Are Seldome Rich.

Love Makes One Fitt For Any Work.

Hee That Looseth His Due, Gets Not Thankes.

'it's This Accursed Science,' I Cried. 'it's The Very Devil. The Mediaeval Priests And Persecutors Were Right, And The Moderns Are All Wrong. You Tamper With It-and It Offers You Gifts. And Directly You Take Them It Knocks You To Pieces In Some Unexpected Way.'

Send Not A Catt For Lard.

He That Trusts In A Lie, Shall Perish In Truth.