Luck Is The Residue Of Design.

The Low'ring Element Scowls O'er The Darken'd Landscape.

A Beardless Cynic Is The Shame Of Nature.

Truth Is Compared In Scripture To A Streaming Fountain; If Her Waters Flow Not In Perpetual Progression, They Sicken Into A Muddy Pool Of Conformity And Tradition.

Truth Is As Impossible To Be Soiled By Any Outward Touch As The Sunbeam.

Biochemically, Love Is Just Like Eating Large Amounts Of Chocolate.