There Never Was A Liar

There Are Sorrows That Are Not Painful, But Are Of The Nature Of Some Acids, And Give Piquancy And Flavor To Life.

Nature Holds An Immense Uncollected Debt Over Every Man's Head.

Our Life Is In The Loom; It Rolls Up And Is Hidden As Fast As It Is Woven. It Is To Be Taken Out Of The Loom Only When We Leave This World; Then Only Shall We See The Pattern.

Living Is Death; Dying Is Life. We Are Not What We Appear To Be. On This Side Of The Grave We Are Exiles, On That Citizens; On This Side Orphans, On That Children.

A Man Should Fear When He Only Enjoys What Good He Does Publicly. Is It Not The Publicity Rather Than The Charity He Loves? Is It Not Vanity, Rather Than Benevolence, That Gives Such Charities?