Great Offices Will Have Great Talents.

Spring Hangs Her Infant Blossoms On The Trees, Rock'd In The Cradle Of The Western Breeze.

Not To Understand A Treasure's Worth Till Time Has Stole Away The Slighted Good, Is Cause Of Half The Poverty We Feel, And Makes The World The Wilderness It Is.

Riches Have Wings, And Grandeur Is A Dream.

The Only Amarantine Flower On Earth Is Virtue.

Scenes Must Be Beautiful Which Daily View'd Please Daily, And Whose Novelty Survives Long Knowledge And The Scrutiny Of Years.