The Sweat Of Industry Would Dry And

Present Mirth Hath Present Laughter. What's To Come Is Still Unsure.

Trust Not My Reading, Nor My Observations, Which With Experimental Seal Do Warrant The Tenor Of My Book.

O, Reason Not The Need!

True Hope Is Swift, And Flies With Swallow's Wings.

Unhappy That I Am, I Cannot Heave My Heart Into My Mouth.