Half Our Days We Pass In The

Content May Dwell In All Stations. To Be Low But Above Contempt May Be High Enough To Be Happy.

Life Itself Is But The Shadow Of Death, And Souls Departed But The Shadows Of The Living.

How Shall We Expect Charity Towards Others, When We Are Uncharitable To Ourselves?

They That Endeavour To Abolish Vice Destroy Also Virtue, For Contraries, Though They Destroy One Another, Are Yet The Life Of One Another.

I Envy No Man That Knows More Than Myself, But Pity Them That Know Less.