Hardness Ever Of Hardness Is Mother.

All That Glisters Is Not Gold; Often Have You Heard That Told: Many A Man His Life Hath Sold But My Outside To Behold: Gilded Tombs Do Worms Enfold.

What Fates Impose, That Men Must Needs Abide; It Boots Not To Resist Both Wind And Tide.

He Was Not So Much Brain As Earwax

Mean And Mighty, Rotting Together, Have One Dust.

Unless The Old Adage Must Be Verified, That Beggars Mounted, Run Their Horse To Death.