To Offend And Judge Are Distinct Offices,

Wisely Weigh Our Sorrow With Our Comfort.

Cowards Die Many Times; A Brave Man Dies But Once.

To Think But Nobly Of My Grandmother: Good Wombs Have Borne Bad Sons.

Aand In The End, Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else But That I Was A Journeyman To Grief?

Love's Heralds Should Be Thoughts, Which Ten Times Faster Glide Than The Sun's Beams Driving Back Shadows Over Low'ring Hills. Therefore Do Nimble-pinioned Doves Draw Love, And Therefore Hath The Wind-swift Cupid Wings.