Constant Complaint Is The Poorest Sort Of

If Thou Hast Wit And Learning, Add To It Wisdom And Modesty.

I Have Thought That Wild Flowers Might Be The Alphabet Of Angels, — Whereby They Write On Hills And Fields Mysterious Truths, Which It Is Not Given Our Fallen Nature To Understand.

We Are Not Certain, We Are Never Certain. If We Were We Could Reach Some Conclusions, And We Could, At Last, Make Others Take Us Seriously. In This World Nothing Can Be Said To Be Certain, Except Death And Taxes.

In Rivers And Bad Governments The Lightest Things Swim At Top.

Fools Need Advice Most, But Wise Men Only Are The Better For It.