Well Married A Person Has Wings, Poorly

Many Men Are Stored Full Of Unused Knowledge. Like Loaded Guns That Are Never Fired Off, Or Military Magazines In Times Of Peace, They Are Stuffed With Useless Ammunition.

Only Have Enough Of Little Virtues And Common Fidelities, And You Need Not Mourn Because You Are Neither A Hero Nor A Saint.

A Man Never Has Good Luck Who Has A Bad Wife.

Any Man Can Work When Every Stroke Of His Hands Brings Down The Fruit Rattling From The Tree ... But To Labor In Season And Out Of Season, Under Every Discouragement... That Requires A Heroism Which Is Transcendent.

Happy Is The Man Who Has That In His Soul Which Acts Upon The Dejected As April Airs Upon Violet Roots. Gifts From The Hand Are Silver And Gold, But The Heart Gives That Which Neither Silver Nor Gold Can Buy. To Be Full Of Goodness, Full Of Cheerfulness, Full Of Sympathy, Full Of Helpful Hope, Causes A Man To Carry Blessings Of Which He Is Himself As Unconscious As A Lamp Is Of Its Own Shining. Such A One Moves On Human Life As Stars Move On Dark Seas To Bewildered Mariners; As The Sun Wheels, Bringing All The Seasons With Him From The South.