Praise Is A Debt We Owe Unto

We Term Sleep A Death, And Yet It Is Waking That Kills Us, And Destroys Those Spirits That Are The House Of Life.

I Intend No Monopoly, But A Community In Learning; I Study Not For My Own Sake Only, But For Theirs That Study Not For Themselves.

The Service Of Love Is The Foolishest Act A Wise Man Commits In All His Life, Nor Is There Anything That Will More Deject His Cool'd Imagination, When He Shall Consider What An Odd And Unworthy Piece Of Folly He Hath Committed.

Sleep Is Death's Younger Brother, And So Like Him, That I Never Dare Trust Him Without My Prayers.

He Is Rich Who Hath Enough To Be Charitable.