The Heavens Rejoice In Motion,

Since You Would Save None Of Me, I Bury Some Of You.

All Our Life Is But A Going Out To The Place Of Execution, To Death.

Affliction Is A Treasure, And Scarce Any Man Hath Enough Of It. No Man Hath Affliction Enough That Is Not Matured And Ripened By It And Made Fit For God.

Religion Is Not A Melancholy, The Spirit Of God Is Not A Damper.

Sleep Is Pain's Easiest Salve, And Doth Fulfil All Offices Of Death, Except To Kill.