An Ill Weed Grows Apace.

Give Me A Spirit That On This Life's Rough Sea Loves T'have His Sails Filled With A Lusty Wind, Even Till His Sail-yards Tremble, His Masts Crack, And His Ship Run On Her Side So Low That She Drinks Water, And Her Keel Plows Air.

Let No Man Under Value The Price Of A Virtuous Woman's Counsel.

They're Only Truly Great Who Are Truly Good.

Danger, The Spur Of All Great Minds.

Who Hath No Faith To Man, To God Hath None.