Never Start With Tomorrow To Reach Eternity.

I Throw Myself Down In My Chamber, And I Call And Invite God And His Angels Thither.

And When A Whirl-winde Hath Blowne The Dust Of The Churchyard Into The Church, And Man Sweeps Out The Dust Of The Church Into The Church-yard, Who Will Undertake To Sift Those Dusts Again, And To Pronounce, This Is The Patrician, This Is The Noble Flower, And This The Yeomanly, This The Plebian Bran.

Sleep Is Pain's Easiest Salve, And Doth Fulfil All Offices Of Death, Except To Kill.

Be More Than Man, Or Thou'rt Less Than An Ant.

Other Men's Crosses Are Not My Crosses.