It Is The Difference Betwixt Lust And

My Prison Shall Be My Grave Before I Will Budge A Jot; For I Owe My Conscience To No Mortal Man.

And He That Is Taught To Live Upon Little, Owes More To His Father's Wisdom, Than He That Has A Great Deal Left Him, Does To His Father's Care.

Sense Shines With Double Lustre When Set In Humility.

Love Grows, Lust Wastes By Enjoyment.

Content Not Thyself That Thou Art Virtuous In The General; For One Link Being Wanting, The Chain Is Defective.