He Who Waits To Do A Great

Grief Is A Species Of Idleness.

He That Floats Lazily Down The Stream, In Pursuit Of Something Borne Along By The Same Current, Will Find Himself Indeed Moved Forward; But Unless He Lays His Hand To The Oar, And Increases His Speed By His Own Labour, Must Be Always At The Same Distance From That Which He Is Following.

Pleasure Is Very Seldom Found Where It Is Sought. Our Brightest Blazes Of Gladness Are Commonly Kindled By Unexpected Sparks. The Flowers Which Scatter Their Odours From Time To Time In The Paths Of Life, Grow Up Without Culture From Seeds Scattered By Chance.

He Who Attempts To Do All Will Waste His Life In Doing Little.

Wise Married Women Don't Trouble Themselves About Infidelity In Their Husbands.