For what we are about to receive, Oh Lord 'tis Thee we thank,' said the cannibal as he cut a slice off the missionary's shank.
Lives of great men all remind us greatness takes no easy way.
Songs are the pulse of a nation's heart. A fever chart of its health.
When the idle poor, Become the idle rich, You'll never know, Just who is who, Or who is which.
Virtue is its own revenge.
Did God who gave us flowers and trees, Also provide the allergies?