A Little Given Seasonably Excuses A Great

Go Not For Every Grief To The Physician, Nor For Every Quarrell To The Lawyer, Nor For Every Thirst To The Pot.

Who Says That Fictions Only And False Hair Become A Verse? Is There In Truth No Beauty? Is All Good Structure In A Winding Stair?

A Tyrant Is Most Tyrant To Himselfe.

There Is An Hour Wherein A Man Might Be Happy All His Life, Could He Find It.

Light Burdens, Long Borne, Grow Heavy.