I Am No Herald To Inquire Into

A Noble Heart, Like The Sun, Showeth Its Greatest Countenance In Its Lowest Estate.

Liking Is Not Always The Child Of Beauty; But Whatsoever Is Liked, To The Liker Is Beautiful.

With A Tale, Forsooth, He Cometh Unto You; With A Tale Which Holdeth Children From Play, And Old Men From The Chimney Corner.

It Is Against Womanhood To Be Forward In Their Own Wishes.

It Is A Lively Spark Of Nobleness To Descend In Most Favour To One When He Is Lowest In Affliction