He That Hath Promised Pardon On Our

How Is The Anxious Soul Of Man Befool'd In His Desire, That Thinks An Hectic Fever May Be Cool'd In Flames Of Fire?

If Thou Hast No Inferiors, Have Patience Awhile, And Thou Shalt Have No Superiors. The Grave Requires No Marshal.

My Soul, What's Lighter Than A Feather? Wind. Than Wind? The Fire. And What Than Fire? The Mind. What's Lighter Than The Mind? A Thought. Than Thought? This Bubble World. What Than This Bubble? Nought.

Put Off Thy Cares With Thy Clothes; So Shall Thy Rest Strengthen Thy Labour, And So Shall Thy Labour Sweeten Thy Rest.

The Way To Subject All Things To Thyself Is To Subject Thyself To Reason; Thou Shalt Govern Many, If Reason Govern Thee. Wouldst Thou Be Crowned The Monarch Of A Little World? Command Thyself.