The Pipe Marks The Point At Which

It Is Less Dishonor To Hear Imperfectly Than To Speak Imperfectly. The Ears Are Excused; The Understanding Is Not.

Let Those That Merely Talk And Never Think, That Live In The Wild Anarchy Of Drink

There Is No Greater Hell Than To Be A Prisoner Of Fear.

Truth Is Man's Proper Good, And The Only Immortal Thing Was Given To Our Mortality To Use.

I Feel My Griefs Too, And There Scarce Is Ground Upon My Flesh T'inflict Another Wound. Yet Dare I Not Complain, Or Wish For Death With Holy Paul; Lest It Be Thought The Breath Of Discontent; Or That These Prayers Be For Weariness Of Life, Not Love Of Thee.