Fear Keepes And Looks To The Vineyard,

Better To Be Blinde, Then To See Ill.

Every Bees Hony Is Sweet.

I Read, And Sigh, And Wish I Were A Tree; For Sure Then I Should Grow To Fruit Or Shade: At Least Some Bird Would Trust Her Household To Me, And I Should Be Just.

He Who Cannot Forgive Breaks The Bridge Over Which He Himself Must Pass.

The Divell Never Assailes A Man, Except He Find Him Either Void Of Knowledge, Or Of The Fear Of God.