A Cherefull Looke Makes A Dish A

Favour Will As Surely Perish As Life.

God's Mill Grinds Slow, But Sure.

Happier Are The Hands Compast With Yron, Then A Heart With Thoughts.

An Ill Labourer Quarrells With His Tooles.

Man Is All Symmetry, Full Of Proportions, One Limb To Another.