Honesty Is The Best Policy. If I

What Valor Were It, When A Cur Doth Grin, For One To Thrust His Hand Between His Teeth, When He Might Spurn Him With His Foot Away?

Her Blood Is Settled, And Her Joints Are Stiff; Life And These Lips Have Long Been Separated: Death Lies On Her Like An Untimely Frost Upon The Sweetest Flower Of All The Field.

O! That A Man Might Know The End Of This Day's Business, Ere It Come; But It Sufficeth That The Day Will End, And Then The End Is Known.

The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention Like Deep Harmony.

There Is Special Providence In The Fall Of A Sparrow.