Heav'n Is Not Always Got By Running.

Of All Vices Take Heed Of Drunkenness; Other Vices Are But Fruits Of Disordered Affections--this Disorders, Nay, Banishes Reason; Other Vices But Impair The Soul--this Demolishes Her Two Chief Faculties, The Understanding And The Will; Other Vices Make Their Own Way--this Makes Way For All Vices; He That Is A Drunkard Is Qualified For All Vice.

He That Hath No Cross Deserves No Crown.

Deliberate Long Before Thou Consecrate A Friend, And When Thy Impartial Justice Concludes Him Worthy Of Thy Bosom, Receive Him Joyfully, And Entertain Him Wisely; Impart Thy Secrets Boldly, And Mingle Thy Thoughts With His: He Is Thy Very Self; And Use Him So; If Thou Firmly Think Him Faithful, Thou Makest Him So.

The Suburbs Of Folly Is Vain Mirth, And Profuseness Of Laughter Is The City Of Fools.

Sin Is A Basilisk Whose Eyes Are Full Of Venom. If The Eye Of Thy Soul See Her First, It Reflects Her Own Poison And Kills Her; If She See Thy Soul, Unseen, Or Seen Too Late, With Her Poison, She Kills Thee: Since Therefore Thou Canst Not Escape Thy Sin, Let Not Thy Sin Escape Thy Observation.