Cats are a very mysterious kind of folk. There is always more passing in their minds than we are aware of.

Nothing is more completely the child of art than a garden.

Covetousness bursts the sack and spills the grain.

Credit is like a looking-glass, which when once sullied by a breath, may be wiped clear again; but if once cracked can never be repaired.

Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand!

Do not Christians and Heathens, and Jews and Gentiles, and poets and philosophers, unite in allowing the starry influences?

Hope is brightest when it dawns from fears.