True Wit, To Every Man, Is That

I See The Rainbow In The Sky, The Dew Upon The Grass; I See Them, And I Ask Not Why They Glimmer Or They Pass. With Folded Arms I Linger Not To Call Them Back; 'twere Vain: In This, Or In Some Other Spot, I Know They'll Shine Again.

The Siren Waits Thee, Singing Song For Song.

A True Philosopher Is Beyond The Reach Of Fortune.

Circumstances Form The Character; But, Like Petrifying Matters, They Harden While They Form.

A Mercantile Democracy May Govern Long And Widely; A Mercantile Aristocracy Cannot Stand.