To Genius Life Never Grows Commonplace.

A Friendship Counting Nearly Forty Years Is The Finest Kind Of Shade-tree I Know.

The Traitor To Humanity Is The Traitor Most Accurst.

Time Is, After All, The Greatest Of Poets; And The Sons Of Memory Stand A Better Chance Of Being The Heirs Of Fame.

And The Poorest Twig On The Elm-tree Was Ridged Inch Deep With Pearl.

They Are Slaves Who Fear To Speak, For The Fallen And The Weak.