Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, Why wert thou not born in my father's dwelling?

The cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice Of one, who from the far-off hills proclaims Tidings of good to Zion.

Oh call it by some better name, For friendship sounds too cold.

In some respects the better a book is, the less it demands from the binding.

Sassafras wood boiled down to a kind of tea, and tempered with an infusion of milk and sugar hath to some a delicacy beyond the China luxury.

Riches are chiefly good because they give us time.

The beggar wears all colors fearing none.