Not He Who Scorns The

Man Is Made Of The Wholly Common, And Custom Is His Nurse; Woe Then To Them Who Lay Irreverent Hands On His Old House-furniture, The Dear Inheritance From His Forefathers: For Time Consecrates, And What Is Gray With Age Becomes Religion.

Only The Soldier Is A Free Man, Because He Can Look Death In The Face.

Deaf Rage That Hears No Leader.

We Can Never Replace A Friend. When A Man Is Fortunate Enough To Have Several, He Finds They Are All Different. No One Has A Double In Friendship.

Utility Is The Great Idol Of The Age, To Which All Powers Must Do Service And All Talents Swear Allegiance.