Is Not This Lily Pure?

The Fountain Of Beauty Is The Heart And Every Generous Thought Illustrates The Walls Of Your Chamber.

Hath Fortune Dealt Thee Ill Cards? Let Wisdom Make Thee A Good Gamester. In A Fair Gale, Every Fool May Sail, But Wise Behavior In A Storm Commends The Wisdom Of A Pilot; To Bear Adversity With An Equal Mind Is Both The Sign And Glory Of A Brave Spirit.

The World's A Printing-house, Our Words, Our Thoughts, Our Deeds, Are Characters Of Several Sizes. Each Soul Is A Compos'tor, Of Whose Faults The Levites Are Correctors; Heaven Revises. Death Is The Common Press, From Whence Being Driven, We're Gather'd, Sheet By Sheet, And Bound For Heaven.

Be Very Vigilant Over Thy Child In The April Of His Understanding, Lest The Frost Of May Nip His Blossoms. While He Is A Tender Twig, Straighten Him; Whilst He Is A New Vessel, Season Him; Such As Thou Makest Him, Such Commonly Shall Thou Find Him. Let His First Lesson Be Obedience And His Second Shall Be What Thou Wilt.

Rather Do What Is Nothing To The Purpose Than Be Idle; That The Devil May Find Thee Doing. The Bird That Sits Is Easily Shot, When Fliers Scape The Fowler. Idleness Is The Dead Sea That Swallows All The Virtues, And The Self-made Sepulchre Of A Living Man.