Trample Not On The Ruins Of A

The Drinking Man Is Never Less Himself Than During His Sober Intervals.

The Only True Time Which A Man Can Properly Call His Own, Is That Which He Has All To Himself; The Rest, Though In Some Sense He May Be Said To Live It, Is Other People's Time, Not His.

A Persian's Heaven Is Eas'ly Made: 't Is But Black Eyes And Lemonade.

The Red-letter Days, Now Become, To All Intents And Purposes, Dead-letter Days.

Who First Invented Work, And Bound The Free And Holiday-rejoicing Spirit Down . . . . To That Dry Drudgery At The Desk's Dead Wood? . . . . Sabbathless Satan!