If Thou Desire To Be Held Wise,

Lust Is An Immoderate Wantonness Of The Flesh, A Sweet Poison, A Cruel Pestilence; A Pernicious Poison, Which Weakeneth The Body Of Man, And Effeminateth The Strength Of The Heroic Mind.

If Thou Desire Not To Be Poor, Desire Not To Be Too Rich. He Is Rich, Not That Possesses Much, But He That Covets No More; And He Is Poor, Not That Enjoys Little, But He That Wants Too Much. The Contented Mind Wants Nothing Which It Hath Not; The Covetous Mind Wants, Not Only What It Hath Not, But Likewise What It Hath.

The Birds Of The Air Die To Sustain Thee; The Beasts Of The Field Die To Nourish Thee; The Fishes Of The Sea Die To Feed Thee. Our Stomachs Are Their Common Sepulchre. Good God! With How Many Deaths Are Our Poor Lives Patched Up! How Full Of Death Is The Life Of Momentary Man!

Read Not Books Alone, But Men, And Amongst Them Chiefly Thyself.

A Lamb Appears A Lion, And We Fear Each Bush We See's A Bear.