The Oil And Wine Of

It Lightens The Stroke To Draw Near To Him Who Handles The Rod.

The Natural Principle Of War Is To Do The Most Harm To Our Enemy With The Least Harm To Ourselves; And This Of Course Is To Be Effected By Stratagem.

Nothing Impresses The Mind With A Deeper Feeling Of Loneliness Than To Tread The Silent And Deserted Scene Of Former Throng And Pageant.

Some Minds Corrode And Grow Inactive Under The Loss Of Personal Liberty; Others Grow Morbid And Irritable; But It Is The Nature Of The Poet To Become Tender And Imaginitive In The Loneliness Of Confinement. He Banquets Upon The Honey Of His Own Thoughts, And, Like The Captive Bird, Pours Forth His Soul In Melody.

The Tie Which Links Mother And Child Is Of Such Pure And Immaculate Strength As To Be Never Violated, Except By Those Whose Feelings Are Withered By Vitiated Society. Holy, Simple, And Beautiful In Its Construction, It Is The Emblem Of All We Can Imagine Of Fidelity And Truth.