But Here's The Joy: My Friend And

Cowards Die Many Times Before Their Deaths; The Valiant Never Taste Of Death But Once.

The Dullness Of The Fool Is The Whetstone Of The Wits.

And Sleep, That Sometime Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye, Steal Me Awhile From Mine Own Company.

Cease Thy Counsel, For Thy Words Fall Into My Ears As Priceless As Water Into A Seive.

Weariness Can Snore Upon The Flint When Resting Sloth Finds The Down Pillow Hard.