Those Who In Quarrels Interpose, Must Often

Human Felicity Is Produced Not As Much By Great Pieces Of Good Fortune That Seldom Happen As By Little Advantages That Occur Every Day.

Death Is A Fisherman, The World We See His Fish-pond Is, And We The Fishes Be; His Net Some General Sickness; Howe'er He Is Not So Kind As Other Fishers Be; For If They Take One Of The Smaller Fry, They Throw Him In Again, He Shall Not Die: But Death Is Sure To Kill All He Can Get, And All Is Fish With Him That Comes To Net.

A Man Is Not Completely Born Until He Is Dead.

How Many Observe Christ's Birthday! How Few, His Precepts!

The Rotten Apple Spoils His Companion.