The Lemonade Is Weak, Like Your Soul.

Eternity Gives Nothing Back Of What One Leaves Out Of The Minutes.

Man Is Made Of The Wholly Common, And Custom Is His Nurse; Woe Then To Them Who Lay Irreverent Hands On His Old House-furniture, The Dear Inheritance From His Forefathers: For Time Consecrates, And What Is Gray With Age Becomes Religion.

Glory To Women! They Weave And Entwine Heavenly Roses Into An Earthly Life.

Virtue, Though Clothed In A Beggar's Garb, Commands Respect.

The Mountain Cannot Frighten One Who Was Born On It.