I Glory, More In The Cunning Purchase

Hell Itself Must Yield To Industry.

You Learn Nothing About Someone By The Way They Win The Fight, You Learn Everything About The Way They Lose And Keep Coming Back.

To Men Pressed By Their Wants All Change Is Ever Welcome.

Though I Am Young, And Cannot Tell Either What Death Or Love Is Well, Yet I Have Heard They Both Bear Darts, And Both Do Aim At Human Hearts. And Then Again, I Have Been Told Love Wounds With Heat, As Death With Cold; So That I Fear They Do But Bring Extremes To Touch, And Mean One Thing. As In A Ruin We It Call One Thing To Be Blown Up, Or Fall; Or To Our End Like Way May Have By A Flash Of Lightning, Or A Wave; So Love’s Inflamèd Shaft Or Brand May Kill As Soon As Death’s Cold Hand; Except Love’s Fires The Virtue Have To Fight The Frost Out Of The Grave.

It Is As Great A Spite To Be Praised In The Wrong Place, And By A Wrong Person, As Can Be Done To A Noble Nature.