Ah, If The Rich Were Rich As

Commonsense Is The Wick Of The Candle.

I Always Seem To Suffer Some Loss Of Faith On Entering Cities.

Poetry Teaches The Enormous Force Of A Few Words, And, In Proportion To The Inspiration, Checks Loquacity.

Everything In Our World, Even A Drop Of Dew, Is A Microcosm Of The Universe.

Not Gold, But Only Man Can Make A People Great And Strong; Men Who, For Truth And Honor's Sake, Stand Fast And Suffer Long.