Oblivion Is Not To Be Hired.

Men That Look No Further Than Their Outsides, Think Health An Appurtenance Unto Life, And Quarrel With Their Constitutions For Being Sick; But I That Have Examined The Parts Of Man, And Know Upon What Tender Filaments That Fabric Hangs, Do Wonder That We Are Not Always So; And Considering The Thousand Doors That Lead To Death, Do Thank My God That We Can Die But Once.

Do The Devils Lie? No; For Then Even Hell Could Not Subsist.

It Is We That Are Blind, Not Fortune.

Grave-stones Tell Truth Scarce Forty Years. Generations Pass While Families Last Not Three Oaks.

A Little Water Makes A Sea, A Small Puff Of Wind A Tempest.