I Envy No Man That Knows More

Half Our Days We Pass In The Shadow Of The Earth; And The Brother Of Death Exacteth A Third Part Of Our Lives.

As Sins Proceed They Ever Multiply, And Like Figures In Arithmetic, The Last Stands For More Than All That Wert Before It.

Let The Fruition Of Things Bless The Possession Of Them, And Take No Satisfaction In Dying But Living Rich.

The Religion Of One Seems Madness Unto Another.

Quotation Mistakes, Inadvertency, Expedition, And Human Lapses, May Make Not Only Moles But Warts In Learned Authors.