The Man Who Glories In

Waste Not Fresh Tears Over Old Griefs.

To An Old Father, Nothing Is More Sweet Than A Daughter. Boys Are More Spirited, But Their Ways Are Not So Tender.

Who Cannot Open An Honest Mind No Friend Will He Be Of Mine.

I Would Prefer As Friend A Good Man Ignorant Than One More Clever Who Is Evil Too.

Alas, How Right The Ancient Saying Is: We, Who Are Old, Are Nothing Else But Noise And Shape. Like Mimicries Of Dreams We Go, And Have No Wits, Although We Think Us Wise.