He Look'd In Years, Yet In His

The Province Of The Soul Is Large Enough To Fill Up Every Cranny Of Your Time, And Leave You Much To Answer For If One Wretch Be Damned By Your Neglect.

Fortune's Unjust; She Ruins Oft The Brave, And Him Who Should Be Victor, Makes The Slave.

Blown Roses Hold Their Sweetness To The Last.

The Conscience Of A People Is Their Power.

Mighty Things From Small Beginnings Grow.