Apothegms Form A Short Cut To Much

Comfort And Indolence Are Cronies.

Some Sigh For This And That; My Wishes Don't Go Far; The World May Wag At Will, So I Have My Cigar.

The Best Of Friends Fall Out, And So His Teeth Had Done Some Years Ago.

Experience Enables Me To Depose To The Comfort And Blessing That Literature Can Prove In Seasons Of Sickness And Sorrow.

Spontaneously To God Should Turn The Soul, Like The Magnetic Needle To The Pole; But What Were That Intrinsic Virtue Worth, Suppose Some Fellow, With More Zeal Than Knowledge, Fresh From St. Andrew's College, Should Nail The Conscious Needle To The North?