The Proof Of The Pudding Is The

I Had Rather Munch A Crust Of Brown Bread And An Onion In A Corner, Without Any More Ado Or Ceremony, Than Feed Upon Turkey At Another Man?s Table, Where One Is Fain To Sit Mincing And Chewing His Meat An Hour Together, Drink Little, Be Always Wiping His Fingers And His Chops, And Never Dare To Cough Nor Sneeze, Though He Has Never So Much A Mind To It, Nor Do A Many Things Which A Body May Do Freely By One?s Self.

One Day, In The San Francisco Walk, He Came Upon Some Badly Painted Figures And Observed That Good Painters Imitate Nature But Bad Ones Vomit It Forth.

Many Count Their Chickens Before They Are Hatched; And Where They Expect Bacon, Meet With Broken Bones.

The Foolish Sayings Of The Rich Pass For Wise Saws In Society.

Sorrow Was Made For Man, Not For Beasts; Yet If Men Encourage Melancholy Too Much, They Become No Better Than Beasts.