Polly Put The Kettle On, We'll All

He Was The Meekest Of His Sex, The Mildest Of Little Men. He Sidled In And Out Of A Room, To Take Up The Less Space. He Walked As Softly As The Ghost In Hamlet, And More Slowly. He Carried His Head On One Side, Partly In Modest Depreciation Of Himself, Partly In Modest Propitiation Of Everybody Else.

Hours Are Golden Links--god's Tokens Reaching Heaven.

Money And Goods Are Certainly The Best Of References.

Keep Out Of Chancery. It's Being Ground To Bits In A Slow Mill; It's Being Roasted At A Slow Fire; It's Being Stung To Death By Single Bees; It's Being Drowned By Drops; It's Going Mad By Grains.

[she Wasn't] A Logically Reasoning Woman, But God Is Good, And Hearts May Count In Heaven As High As Heads.