Death Aims With Fouler Spiteat Fairer Marks.

Lust Is An Immoderate Wantonness Of The Flesh, A Sweet Poison, A Cruel Pestilence; A Pernicious Poison, Which Weakeneth The Body Of Man, And Effeminateth The Strength Of The Heroic Mind.

Let The Greatest Part Of The News Thou Hearest Be The Least Part Of What Thou Believest, Lest The Greater Part Of What Thou Believest Be The Least Part Of What Is True.

Wrinkle Not Thy Face With Too Much Laughter, Lest Thou Become Ridiculous; Neither Wanton Thy Heart With Too Much Mirth, Lest Thou Become Vain: The Suburbs Of Folly Is Vain Mirth, And Profuseness Of Laughter Is The City Of Fools.

Wisdom Not Only Gets, But Once Got, Retains.

Too Much Is A Vanity; Enough Is A Feast.