How Wide The Limits Stand Between A

In All The Silent Manliness Of Grief.

I Hate The French Because They Are All Slaves And Wear Wooden Shoes.

To Make A Fine Gentleman, Several Trades Are Required, But Chiefly A Barber.

To What Fortuitous Occurrence Do We Not Owe Every Pleasure And Convenience Of Our Lives.

To Be Poor, And To Seem Poor, Is A Certain Method Never To Rise.