Fire Hath Its Force Abated By Water,

I Wish My Sun May Never Set, But Burn.

There Is No Object That We See; No Action That We Do; No Good That We Enjoy; No Evil That We Feel, Or Fear, But We May Make Some Spiritual Advantage Of All: And He That Makes Such Improvement Is Wise, As Well As Pious.

I Prize Thy Love More Than Whole Mines Of Gold Or All The Riches That The East Doth Hold.

Sweet Words Are Like Honey, A Little May Refresh, But Too Much Gluts The Stomach.

Sin And Shame Ever Go Together; He That Would Be Freed From The Last Must Be Sure To Shun The Company Of The First.