Wise Men Ne'er Sit And Wail Their

Therefore, To Be Possess'd With Double Pomp, To Guard A Title That Was Rich Before, To Gild Refined Gold, To Paint The Lily, To Throw A Perfume On The Violet, To Smooth The Ice, Or Add Another Hue Unto The Rainbow, Or With Taper-light To Seek The Beauteous Eye Of Heaven To Garnish, Is Wasteful And Ridiculous Excess.

Time Is The King Of Men.

No Particular Scandal One Can Touch But It Confounds The Breather.

There Was Never Yet Philosopher That Could Endure The Toothache Patiently

If The Skin Were Parchment And The Blows You Gave Were Ink, Your Own Handwriting Would Tell You What I Think.