Cut Men's Throats With Whisperings.

Let Those That Merely Talk And Never Think, That Live In The Wild Anarchy Of Drink

Where Dost Thou Careless Lie, Buried In Ease And Sloth? Knowledge That Sleeps, Doth Die; And This Security, It Is The Common Moth, That Eats On Wits And Arts, And Oft Destroys Them Both.

If You Be Sick, Your Own Thoughts Make You Sick

When A Virtuous Man Is Raised, It Brings Gladness To His Friends, Grief To His Enemies, And Glory To His Posterity.

The Soul Of Man Is Infinite In What It Covets.