Friendships Are The Purer And The More

Was Genius Ever Ungrateful? Mere Talents Are Dry Leaves, Tossed Up And Down By Gusts Of Passion, And Scattered And Swept Away; But, Genius Lies On The Bosom Of Memory, And Gratitude At Her Feet.

Ambition Is But Avarice On Stilts, And Masked. God Sometimes Sends A Famine, Sometimes A Pestilence, And Sometimes A Hero, For The Chastisement Of Mankind; None Of Them Surely For Our Admiration.

Around The Child Bend All The Threesweet Graces: Faith, Hope, Charity.around The Man Bend Other Faces;pride, Envy, Malice, Are His Graces.

How Sweet And Sacred Idleness Is!

The Vain Poet Is Of The Opinion That Nothing Of His Can Be Too Much: He Sends To You Basketful After Basketful Of Juiceless Fruit, Covered With Scentless Flowers.