Hope Itself Is A Pain,

Thinking Nurseth Thinking.

Men Are Almost Always Cruel In Their Neighbors' Faults; And Make Others' Overthrow The Badge Of Their Own Ill-masked Virtue.

Nature Never Set Forth The Earth In So Rich Tapestry As Divers Poets Have Done; Neither With Pleasant Rivers, Fruitful Trees, Sweet-smelling Flowers, Nor Whatsoever Else May Make The Too-much-loved Earth More Lovely; Her World Is Brazen, The Poets Only Deliver A Golden.

Who Shoots At The Mid-day Sun, Though He Be So Sure He Shall Never Hit The Mark, Yet As Sure As He Is, He Shall Shoot Higher Than He Who Aims At A Bush.

The Highest Point Outward Things Can Bring Unto, Is The Contentment Of The Mind; With Which No Estate Can Be Poor, Without Which All Estates Will Be Miserable.