My Hands Are Guilty, But My Heart

Jealousy Is The Jaundice Of The Soul.

By Education Most Have Been Misled; So They Believe, Because They Were Bred. The Priest Continues Where The Nurse Began, And Thus The Child Imposes On The Man.

Let Cheerfulness On Happy Fortune Wait.

Virgil Is So Exact In Every Word, That None Can Be Changed But For A Worse; Nor Any One Removed From Its Place, But The Harmony Will Be Altered. He Pretends Sometimes To Trip; But It Is Only To Make You Think Him In Danger Of A Fall, When He Is Most Secure.

My Right Eye Itches, Some Good Luck Is Near.