Where Wealth Accumulates, Men Decay.

The Heart Of Every Man Lies Open To The Shafts Of Correction If The Archer Can Take Proper Aim.

Sweet Auburn, Loveliest Village Of The Plain.

So The Loud Torrent, And The Whirlwind's Roar, But Bind Him To His Native Mountains More.

I Have Visited Many Countries, And Have Been In Cities Without Number, Yet Never Did I Enter A Town Which Could Not Produce Ten Or Twelve Little Great Men; All Fancying Themselves Known To The Rest Of The World, And Complimenting Each Other Upon Their Extensive Reputation.

Hope, Like The Gleaming Taper's Light, Adorns And Cheers Our Way; And Still, As Darker Grows The Night, Emits A Brighter Ray.