Strike The Iron Whilst It Is Hot.

How Comes It That You Curse, Frere Jean? It's Only, Said The Monk, In Order To Embellish My Language. They Are The Colors Of Ciceronian Rhetoric.

All Things Have Their Ends And Cycles. And When They Have Reached Their Highest Point, They Are In Their Lowest Ruin, For They Cannot Last For Long In Such A State. Such Is The End For Those Who Cannot Moderate Their Fortune And Prosperity With Reason And Temperance.

The Appetite Grows With Eating.

Time, Which Gnaws And Diminisheth All Things Else, Augments And Increaseth Benefits; Because A Noble Action Of Liberality, Done To A Man Of Reason, Doth Grow Continually By His Generous Thinking Of It And Remembering It.

I Never Sleep In Comfort Save When I Am Hearing A Sermon Or Praying To God.