I Shall Die Reading; Since My Book

To Know And Feel All This And Not Have The Words To Express It Makes A Human A Grave Of His Own Thoughts.

But I Do Nothing Upon Myself, And Yet I Am My Own Executioner.

Can There Be Worse Sickness, Than To Know That We Are Never Well, Nor Can Be So?

There Is Hook In Every Benefit, That Sticks In His Jaws That Takes That Benefit, And Draws Him Whither The Benefactor Will.

I Neglect God And His Angles For The Noise Of A Fly, For The Rattling Of A Coach, For The Whining Of A Door.