In Grief We Know The Worst Of

It Is The Large Aggregate Of Small Things Perpetually Occurring That Robs Me Of All My Time. The Expense Of Learning To Read Might Have Been Spared In My Education, For I Never Read.

The Wretch Who Digs The Mine For Bread, Or Ploughs, That Others May Be Fed, Feels Less Fatigued Than That Decreed To Him Who Cannot Think Or Read.

Anger Is A Violent Act, Envy A Constant Habit - No One Can Be Always Angry, But He May Be Always Envious.

Indeed, I Have, Alas! Outlived Almost Every One Of My Contemporaries. One Pays Dear For Living Long.

Since Trifles Make The Sum Of Human Things, And Half Our Misery From Our Foibles Springs.