Age And Want Sit Smiling

Every Professional Was Once An Amateur.

Why Has Not Man A Microscopic Eye? For This Plain Reason, Man Is Not A Fly. Say What The Use, Were Finer Optics Giv'n, T' Inspect A Mite, Not Comprehend The Heav'n.

Whate'er The Talents, Or Howe'er Designed, We Hang One Jingling Padlock On The Mind.

Conceit Is To Nature What Paint Is To Beauty; It Is Not Only Needless, But It Impairs What It Would Improve.

The Good Must Merit God's Peculiar Care; But Who But God Can Tell Us Who They Are?