But Like Of Each Thing That In

The Empty Vessel Makes The Loudest Sound.

Tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich.

I Will Instruct My Sorrows To Be Proud; For Grief Is Proud, And Makes His Owner Stoop.

We All Are Men, In Our Own Natures Frail, And Capable Of Our Flesh; Few Are Angels.

I Must Be Cruel Only To Be Kind; Thus Bad Begins, And Worse Remains Behind.