Sweet Flowers Are Slow And Weeds Make

They That Touch Pitch Will Be Defiled.

The Sense Of Death Is Most In Apprehension.

A Very Ancient And Fish-like Smell.

I Do Not Set My Life At A Pin's Fee, And For My Soul, What Can It Do To That, Being A Thing Immortal As Itself?

Give Every Man Thine Ear, But Few Thy Voice; Take Each Man's Censure, But Reserve Thy Judgment.