For All We Take We Must Pay,

The White Moth To The Closing Vine, The Bee To The Open Clover, And The Gypsy Blood To The Gypsy Blood Ever The Wide World Over.

A Man's Mind Is Wont To Tell Him More Than Seven Watchmen Sitting In A Tower.

Adam Was A Gardener, And God, Who Made Him, Sees That Half Of All Good Gardening Is Done Upon The Knees.

God Help Us For We Knew The Worst Too Young.

San Francisco Has Only One Drawback—‘tis Hard To Leave.