I Am A Feather For Each Wind

Sweetest Nut Hath Sourest Rind.

However Wickedness Outstrips Men, It Has No Wings To Fly From God.

Every Offense Is Not A Hate At First.

Silence Is The Perfect Herald Of Joy.

This Night I Hold An Old Accustomed Feast, Whereto I Have Invited Many A Guest, Such As I Love; And You Among The Store, One More, Most Welcome, Makes My Number More.