The Soil Of Their Native Land Is

The Forehead Is The Gate Of The Mind.

Of All Nature's Gifts To The Human Race, What Is Sweeter To A Man Than His Children?

The Whole Glory Of Virtue Resides In Activity.

Yield, Ye Arms, To The Toga; To Civic Praise, Ye Laurels.

A Man Does Not Wonder At What He Sees Frequently, Even Though He Be Ignorant Of The Reason. If Anything Happens Which He Has Not Seen Before, He Calls It A Prodigy.