If You Don't Ride In The Rain,

All Substances The Cunning Chemist Time Melts Down Into That Liquor Of My Life.

Though Your Views Are In Straight Antagonism To Theirs, Assume An Identity Of Sentiment, Assume That You Are Saying Precisely Thatwhich All Think, And In The Flow Of Wit And Love Roll Out Your Paradoxes In Solid Column, With Not The Infirmity Of A Doubt.

He That Despiseth Small Things Will Perish By Little And Little.

Power Dwells With Cheerfulness.

An Artist Spends Himself Like The Crayon In His Hand, Till He Is All Gone.