The Small Amount Of Foolery Wise Men

I Will Keep Where There Is Wit Stirring, And Leave The Faction Of Fools.

Are There No Stones In Heaven But What Serves For Thunder?

I Hold It Cowardice To Rest Mistrustful Where A Noble Heart Hath Pawned An Open Hand In Sign Of Love.

Sleep Dwell Upon Thine Eyes, Peace In Thy Breast! Would I Were Sleep And Peace, So Sweet To Rest.

What Our Contempts Do Often Hurl From Us, We Wish It Ours Again.