For Yesterday Was Once To-morrow.

Lives There The Man With Soul So Dead As To Disown The Wish To Merit The People's Applause, And Having Uttered Words Worthy To Be Kept In Cedar Oil To Latest Times, To Leave Behind Him Rhymes That Dread Neither Herrings Nor Frankincense.

Bad Advice Is Often Most Fatal To The Adviser.

Each Man Has His Own Desires; All Do Not Possess The Same Inclinations.

Out Of Nothing Can Come, And Nothing Can Become Nothing.

Is Any Man Free Except The One Who Can Pass His Life As He Pleases?