Conceit In Weakest Bodies Works The Strongest.

If There Were Reason For These Miseries, Then Into Limits Could I Bind My Woes. If The Winds Rages, Doth Not The Sea Wax Mad, Threat'ning The Welkin With Its Big-swoll'n Face? And Wilt Though Have A Reason For This Coil? I Am The Sea. Hark How Her Sighs Doth Blow. She Is The Weeping Welkin, I The Earth.

Nothing Emboldens Sin So Much As Mercy.

Hang Those That Talk Of Fear.

Men's Faults Do Seldom To Themselves Appear.

You Lack The Season Of All Natures, Sleep.