Fools May Our Scorn, Not

Envy Is A Kind Of Praise.

Whence Is Thy Learning? Hath Thy Toil O'er Books Consumed The Midnight Oil?

Why Is The Hearse With Scutcheons Blazon'd Round, And With The Nodding Plume Of Ostrich Crown'd? No; The Dead Know It Not, Nor Profit Gain; It Only Serves To Prove The Living Vain.

Praising All Alike, Is Praising None.

A Woman's Friendship Ever Ends In Love.