To Be Rude Is As

Though Fortune's Wheel Is Generally On The Turn, Sometimes When It Gets Into The Mud, It Sticks There.

We Need To Suffer, That We May Learn To Pity.

Curiosity Is Its Own Suicide.

Ah, Tell Me Not That Memory Sheds Gladness O'er The Past, What Is Recalled By Faded Flowers, Save That They Did Not Last?

One Of The Greatest Of All Mental Pleasures Is To Have Our Thoughts Often Divined: Ever Entered Into With Sympathy.