What Shall He Fear That Does Not

When The Measured Dance Of The Hours Brings Back The Happy Smile Of Spring, The Buried Dead Is Born Again In The Life-glance Of The Sun. The Germs Which Perished To The Eye Within The Cold Breast Of The Earth Spring Up With Joy In The Bright Realm Of Day.

Wine Invents Nothing; It Only Tattles.

An Honest Man You May Form Of Windle-straws, But To Make A Rogue You Must Have Grist.

Love Is The Reward Of Love.

To Be Man's Tender Mate Was Woman Born, And In Obeying Nature She Best Serves The Purposes Of Heaven.