Idleness Is A Mother. She Has A

Art Needs No Spur Beyond Itself.

Good Actions Are The Invisible Hinges On The Doors Of Heaven.

Let Us Admit, Without Bitterness, That The Individual Has His Distinct Interests And Can, Without Felony, Stipulate For Those Interests And Defend Them. The Present Has Its Pardonable Amount Of Egotism; Momentary Life Has Its Claims, And Cannot Be Expected To Sacrifice Itself Incessantly To The Future. The Generation Which Is In Its Turn Passing Over The Earth Is Not Forced To Abridge Its Life For The Sake Of The Generations, Its Equals After All, Whose Turn Shall Come Later On.

Tobacco Is The Plant That Converts Thoughts Into Dreams.

Wherever The Turkish Hoof Trods, No Grass Grows.