He That Dies This Year Is Quit

Anger Is Like A Full Hot Horse, Who Being Allowed His Way, Self-mettle Tires Him.

Take Heed, Dear Heart, Of This Large Privilege; The Hardest Knife Ill-used Doth Lose His Edge.

Our Doubts Are Traitors And Make Us Lose The Good We Oft Might Win By Fearing To Attempt.

The Best Is Yet To Come.

Is There No Respect Of Place, Persons, Nor Time In You?