Falsehood Is For A Season.

Friendship Is A Vase, Which, When It Is Flawed By Heat, Or Violence, Or Accident, May As Well Be Broken At Once; It Can Never Be Trusted After.

Friendship May Sometimes Step A Few Paces In Advance Of Truth.

A Critic Is Never Too Severe When He Only Detects The Faults Of An Author. But He Is Worse Than Too Severe When, In Consequence Of This Detection, Be Presumes To Place Himself On A Level With Genius.

In The Morn Of Life We Are Alert, We Are Heated In Its Noon, And Only In Its Decline Do We Repose.

Fleas Know Not Whether They Are Upon The Body Of A Giant Or Upon One Of Ordinary Size.