He That Departs With His Own Honesty

A Valiant Man Ought Not To Undergo, Or Tempt A Danger, But Worthily, And By Selected Ways, He Undertakes With Reason, Not By Chance. His Valor Is The Salt T' His Other Virtues, They're All Unseason'd Without It.

Though I Am Young, And Cannot Tell Either What Death Or Love Is Well, Yet I Have Heard They Both Bear Darts, And Both Do Aim At Human Hearts. And Then Again, I Have Been Told Love Wounds With Heat, As Death With Cold; So That I Fear They Do But Bring Extremes To Touch, And Mean One Thing. As In A Ruin We It Call One Thing To Be Blown Up, Or Fall; Or To Our End Like Way May Have By A Flash Of Lightning, Or A Wave; So Love’s Inflamèd Shaft Or Brand May Kill As Soon As Death’s Cold Hand; Except Love’s Fires The Virtue Have To Fight The Frost Out Of The Grave.

You Learn Nothing About Someone By The Way They Win The Fight, You Learn Everything About The Way They Lose And Keep Coming Back.

Memory, Of All The Powers Of The Mind, Is The Most Delicate And Frail.

Men That Talk Of Their Own Benefits Are Not Believed To Talk Of Them Because They Have Done Them, But To Have Done Them Because They Might Talk Of Them.