But My Thoughts Ran A Wool-gathering; And

He Who Reforms, God Assists.

To Think That The Affairs Of This Life Always Remain In The Same State Is A Vain Presumption; Indeed They All Seem To Be Perpetually Changing And Moving In A Circular Course. Spring Is Followed By Summer, Summer By Autumn, And Autumn By Winter, Which Is Again Followed By Spring, And So Time Continues Its Everlasting Round. But The Life Of Man Is Ever Racing To Its End, Swifter Than Time Itself, Without Hope Of Renewal, Unless In The Next That Is Limitless And Infinite.

Evil Comes Not Amiss If It Comes Alone.

A Person Dishonored Is Worst Than Dead.

We Ought To Love Our Maker For His Own Sake, Without Either Hope Of Good Or Fear Of Pain.