How Hard It Is To Hide The

How Many Things By Season Seasoned Are To Their Right Praise And True Perfection!

I Have Ventured, Like Little Wanton Boys That Swim On Bladders, This Many Summers In A Sea Of Glory, But Far Beyond My Depth. My High-blown Pride At Length Broke Under Me, And Now Has Left Me, Weary And Old With Service, To The Mercy Of A Rude Stream That Must For Ever Hide Me.

A Good Heart 'is Worth Gold.

Oft Have I Heard That Grief Softens The Mind And Makes It Fearful And Degenerate.

The Common Curse Of Mankind, Folly And Ignorance, Be Thine In Great Revenue!