One May Know How To Gain A

These Flowers, Which Were Splendid And Sprightly, Waking In The Dawn Of The Morning, In The Evening Will Be A Pitiful Frivolity, Sleeping In The Cold Night's Arms.

To The King, One Must Give His Possessions And His Life; But Honour Is A Possession Of Soul, And The Soul Is Only God's.

In This Treacherous World Nothing Is The Truth Nor A Lie. Everything Depends On The Color Of The Crystal Through Which One Sees It

No Windows Give A Better View Than Those A Man Brings With Him In His Head, Not Asking For Tickets Of Admission, Since At All Functions, Festivals, Or Feasts He Looks Out With The Same Nice Self-composure.

Never Confide Your Secrets To Paper; It Is Like Throwing A Stone In The Air; And If You Know Who Throws The Stone, You Do Not Know Where It May Fall.