Virtues Go Ever In Troops; They Go

Death Borders Upon Our Birth, And Our Cradle Stands In The Grave.

As The Most Generous Vine, If It Is Not Pruned, Runs Out Into Many Superfluous Stems, And Grows At Last Weak And Fruitless; So Dote The Best Man, If He Be Not Cut Short Of His Desires And Pruned With Afflictions. If It Be Painful To Bleed, It Is Worse To Wither. Let Me Be Pruned, That I May Grow, Rather Than Be Cut Up To Burn.

Good Prayers Never Come Creeping Home. I Am Sure I Shall Receive Either What I Ask, Or What I Should Ask.

Words Are As They Are Taken, And Things Are As They Are Used. There Are Even Cursed Blessings.

The Godly Man Contrarily Is Afraid Of Nothing; Not Of God, Because He Knows Him His Best Friend, And Will Not Hurt Him; Not Of Satan, Because He Cannot Hurt Him; Not Of Afflictions, Because He Knows They Come From A Loving God, And End In His Good; Not Of The Creatures, Since "the Very Stones In The Field Are In League With Him;" Not Of Himself, Since His Conscience Is At Peace.