I Will Not Cease From Mental Fight

When The Voices Of Children Are Heard On The Greenand Laughing Is Heard On The Hill,my Heart Is At Rest Within My Breastand Everything Else Is Still.

Improvement Makes Strait Roads, But The Crooked Roads Without Improvement, Are Roads Of Genius.

Then The Parson Might Preach, & Drink, & Sing, And We'd Be As Happy As Birds In The Spring; And Modest Dame Lurch, Who Is Always At Church, Would Not Have Bandy Children, Nor Fasting, Nor Birch.

Tools Were Made And Born Were Hands, Every Farmer Understands.

The Best Wine Is The Oldest, The Best Water The Newest.