Pleasure Is Labour Too, And Tires As

The Slaves Of Custom And Established Mode, With Pack-horse Constancy We Keep The Road Crooked Or Straight, Through Quags Or Thorny Dells, True To The Jingling Of Our Leader's Bells.

He That Attends To His Interior Self, That Has A Heart, And Keeps It; Has A Mind That Hungers, And Supplies It; And Who Seeks A Social, Not A Dissipated Life, Has Business.

It Is A Terrible Thought, That Nothing Is Ever Forgotten; That Not An Oath Is Ever Uttered That Does Not Continue To Vibrate Through All Times, In The Wide Spreading Current Of Sound; That Not A Prayer Is Lisped, That Its Record Is Not To Be Found St

It Is A General Rule Of Judgment, That A Mischief Should Rather Be Admitted Than An Inconvenience.

Fate Steals Along With Silent Tread, Found Oftenest In What Least We Dread; Frowns In The Storm With Angry Brow, But In The Sunshine Strikes The Blow.