Intellectual growth should commence at birth and cease only at death

Intellectual growth should commence at birth and cease only at death

He who moves not forward, goes backward

He who moves not forward, goes backward

Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell.

Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell.

Besides that, when elsewhere the harvest of wheat is most
abundant, there it comes up less by one-fourth than read more

Besides that, when elsewhere the harvest of wheat is most
abundant, there it comes up less by one-fourth than what you have
sowed. There, methinks, it were a proper place for men to sow
their wild oats, where they would not spring up.
[Lat., Post id, frumenti quum alibi messis maxima'st
Tribus tantis illi minus reddit, quam obseveris.
Heu! istic oportet obseri mores malos,
Si in obserendo possint interfieri.]

Tall oaks from little acorns grow.

Tall oaks from little acorns grow.

Confidence is a plant of slow growth; especially in an aged bosom.

Confidence is a plant of slow growth; especially in an aged bosom.

A song to the oak, the brave old oak,
Who hath ruled in the greenwood long;
Here's read more

A song to the oak, the brave old oak,
Who hath ruled in the greenwood long;
Here's health and renown to his broad green crown,
And his fifty arms so strong.
There's fear in his frown when the Sun goes down,
And the fire in the West fades out;
And he showeth his might on a wild midnight,
When the storms through his branches shout.

He is of the race of the mushroom; he covers himself altogether
with his head.
[Lat., Fungino genere read more

He is of the race of the mushroom; he covers himself altogether
with his head.
[Lat., Fungino genere est; capite se totum tegit.]

There grewe an aged tree on the greene;
A goodly Oake sometime had it bene,
With armes read more

There grewe an aged tree on the greene;
A goodly Oake sometime had it bene,
With armes full strong and largely displayed,
But of their leaves they were disarayde
The bodie bigge, and mightely pight,
Thoroughly rooted, and of wond'rous hight;
Whilome had bene the king of the field,
And mochell mast to the husband did yielde,
And with his nuts larded many swine:
But now the gray mosse marred his rine;
His bared boughes were beaten with stormes,
His toppe was bald, and wasted with wormes,
His honour decayed, his brauches sere.