I Love To Lose Myself In A

We Term Sleep A Death By Which We May Be Literally Said To Die Daily; In Fine, So Like Death, I Dare Not Trust It Without My Prayers.

Miserable Men Commiserate Not Themselves; Bowelless Unto Others, And Merciless Unto Their Own Bowels.

Festination May Prove Precipitation; Deliberating Delay May Be Wise Cunctation.

Things Evidently False Are Not Only Printed, But Many Things Of Truth Most Falsely Set Forth.

We All Labour Against Our Own Cure, For Death Is The Cure Of All Diseases.