Cats Don't Caress Us-they Caress Themselves On

Gold Like The Sun, Which Melts Wax, But Hardens Clay, Expands Great Souls.

Wrong Is Wrong; No Fallacy Can Hide It, No Subterfuge Cover It So Shrewdly But That The All-seeing One Will Discover And Punish It.

The Subtle Sauce Of Malice Is Often Indulged In By Maidens Of Uncertain Age, Over Their Tea.

It Has Been Very Truly Said That The Mob Has Many Heads, But No Brains.

Extremes Produce Reaction. Beware That Our Boasted Civilization Does Not Lapse Into Barbarism.