It Is In Pardoning That

Make Use Of Time, Let Not Advantage Slip; Beauty Within Itself Should Not Be Wasted: Fair Flowers That Are Not Gather'd In Their Prime Rot And Consume Themselves In Little Time.

As There Comes Light From Heaven And Words From Breath, As There Is Sense In Truth And Truth In Virtue

After Your Death You Were Better Have A Bad Epitaph Than Their Ill Report While You Live.

More Matter With Less Art.

What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks?