Perfection Is The Child Of Time.

How Easy It Is For Men To Be Swollen With Admiration Of Their Own Strength And Glory, And To Be Lifted Up So High As To Lose Sight Both Of The Ground Whence They Rose, And The Hand That Advanced Them.

We Are Often Infinitely Mistaken, And Take The Falsest Measures, When We Envy The Happiness Of Rich And Great Men; We Know Not The Inward Canker That Eats Out All Their Joy And Delight, And Makes Them Really Much More Miserable Than Ourselves.

He That Taketh His Own Cares Upon Himself Loads Himself In Vain With An Uneasy Burden. I Will Cast All My Cares On God; He Hath Bidden Me; They Cannot Burden Him.

Those Who Give Not Till They Die Show That They Would Not Then If They Could Keep It Any Longer.

Every Day Is A Little Life, And Our Whole Life Is But A Day Repeated. Therefore Live Every Day As If It Would Be The Last. Those That Dare Lose A Day, Are Dangerously Prodigal; Those That Dare Misspend It Are Desperate.