In A Calm Sea Every

If Wishes Were Horses, Beggars Might Ride.

He That Buys Land Buys Many Stones, He That Buys Flesh Buys Many Bones, He That Buys Eggs Buys Many Shells, But He That Buys Good Ale Buys Nothing Else.

A Wonder Then It Must Needs Be,-that There Should Be Any Man Found So Stupid And Forsaken Of Reason As To Persuade Himself, That This Most Beautiful And Adorned World Was Or Could Be Produced By The Fortuitous Concourse Of Atoms.

The Tree Falls Not At The First Stroke.

Misery Loves Company.