There Are Some Men Above Grief And

In Vain Produced, All Rays Return; Evil Will Bless, And Ice Will Burn.

Sole And Self-commanded Works, Fears Not Undermining Days, Grows By Decays, And, By The Famous Might That Lurks In Reaction And Recoil, Makes Flames To Freeze, And Ice To Boil.

The World Is His Who Has Money To Go Over It.

Fine Manners Need The Support Of Fine Manners In Others.

Blessed Are Those Who Have No Talent!