The mountain rill Seeks with no surer flow the far bright sea, Than my unchang'd affections flow to thee.

If we don't hang together, by Heavens we shall hang separately

The best doctors give the least medicines

Bob Riley, a kind soul who “treads lightly in this world,” is in the 22nd year of a federal life without parole LSD sentence.

Press on! If Fortune play thee false To-day, tomorrow she'll be true; Whom now she sinks she now exalts, Taking old gifts and granting new, The wisdom of the present hour Makes up the follies past and gone; To weakness, strength succeeds, and power From frailty springs! Press on, press on!

Man and woman have each of them qualities and tempers in which the other is deficient, and which in union contribute to the common felicity.

The mountain rill Seeks with no surer flow the far bright sea, Than my unchang'd affections flow to thee.