Evils Have Their Comfort, Good None Can

Were It Not For The Bone In The Legge, All The World Would Turne Carpenters (to Make Them Crutches).

Let Thy Mind Still Be Bent, Still Plotting, Where, And When, And How Thy Business May Be Done. Slackness Breeds Worms; But The Sure Traveller, Though He Alights Sometimes Still Goeth On.

Show Me A Liar, And I'll Show You A Thief.

The Death Of A Young Wolfe Doth Never Come Too Soon.

Though God Take The Sunne Out Of The Heaven, Yet We Must Have Patience.