There Is No Truth Sure Enough To

How Gladly Would I Meet Mortality, My Sentence, And Be Earth In Sensible! How Glad Would Lay Me Down, As In My Mother's Lap! There I Should Rest, And Sleep Secure.

Therefore, If At Great Things Thou Wouldst Arrive, Get Riches First, Get Wealth.

The Martyrs Shook The Powers Of Darkness With The Irresistible Power Of Weakness.

On A Sudden Open Fly With Impetuous Recoil And Jarring Sound Th' Infernal Doors, And On Their Hinges Grate Harsh Thunder.

To-morrow To Fresh Woods, And Pastures New.