But O The Truth, The

We Know The Degree Of Refinement In People By The Matter They Laugh At And The Ring Of The Laugh.

It's Past Parsons To Console Us: No, Nor No Doctor Fetch For Me: I Can Die Without My Bolus; Two Of A Trade, Lass, Never Agree! Parson And Doctor!--don't They Love Rarely Fighting The Devil In Other Men's Fields! Stand Up Yourself And Match Him Fairly: Then See How The Rascal Yields!

For Singing Till His Heaven Fills, 'tis Love Of Earth That He Instills, And Ever Winging Up And Up, Our Valley Is His Golden Cup, And He The Wine Which Over Flows To Lift Us With Him As He Goes.

We Never Know What's In Us Till We Stand By Ourselves.

A Witty Woman Is A Treasure; A Witty Beauty Is A Power.