He Wears His Faith But

The World Is Grown So Bad, That Wrens Make Prey Where Eagles Dare Not Perch.

Supposition All Our Lives Shall Be Stuck Full Of Eyes; For Treason Is But Trusted Like The Fox, Who, Ne'er So Tame, So Cherished And Locked Up, Will Have A Wild Trick Of His Ancestors.

He That Will Have A Cake Out Of The Wheat Must Tarry The Grinding. Have I Not Tarried? Ay, The Grinding; But You Must Tarry The Bolting. Have I Not Tarried? Ay, The Bolting; But You Must Tarry The Leavening. Still Have I Tarried. Ay, To The Leavening; But Here's Yet In The Word 'hereafter' The Kneading, The Making Of The Cake, The Heating Of The Oven, And The Baking; Nay, You Must Stay The Cooling Too, Or You May Chance To Burn Your Lips.

Memory, The Warder Of The Brain.

Prosperity's The Very Bond Of Love.