O Jealousy! Thou Magnifier Of Trifles.

Far Must Thy Researches Go Wouldst Thou Learn The World To Know; Thou Must Tempt The Dark Abyss Wouldst Thou Prove What Being Is; Naught But Firmness Gains The Prize, Naught But Fullness Makes Us Wise, Buried Deep Truth E'er Lies.

Revenge Is Barren Of Itself: It Is The Dreadful Food It Feeds On; Its Delight Is Murder, And Its End Is Despair.

Truth Is More Than A Dream And A Song.

What Reason, Like The Careful Ant, Draws Laboriously Together, The Wind Of Accident Sometimes Collects In A Moment.

Did You Think The Lion Was Sleeping Because He Didn't Roar?