Fortune, Thou Hadst No Deity, If Men

Nothing Is A Courtesy Unless It Be Meant Us, And That Friendly And Lovingly. We Owe No Thanks To Rivers That They Carry Our Boats, Or Winds That They Be Favoring And Fill Our Sails, Or Meats That They Be Nourishing; For These Are What They Are Necessarily. Horses Carry Us, Trees Shade Us; But They Know It Not.

Hell Itself Must Yield To Industry.

Reader Look, Not On His Picture But His Book.

Where It Concerns Himself, Who's Angry At A Slander, Makes It True.

He That Is Respectless In His Courses Oft Sells His Reputation At Cheap Market.