The Proper Work Of Man,

Upright Simplicity Is The Deepest Wisdom, And Perverse Craft The Merest Shallowness.

Virtue Is Not A Mushroom, That Springeth Up Of Itself In One Night When We Are Asleep, Or Regard It Not; But A Delicate Plant, That Groweth Slowly And Tenderly, Needing Much Pains To Cultivate It, Much Care To Guard It, Much Time To Mature It, In Our Untoward Soil, In This World's Unkindly Weather.

Every Ear Is Tickled With The Sweet Music Of Applause.

Chance Never Writ A Legible Book; Chance Never Built A Fair House; Chance Never Drew A Neat Picture; It Never Did Any Of These Things, Nor Ever Will; Nor Can It Be Without Absurdity Supposed Able To Do Them; Which Yet Are Works Very Gross And Rude, Very Easy And Feasible, As It Were, In Comparison To The Production Of A Flower Or A Tree.

It Is Commonly Said That Revenge Is Sweet, But To A Calm And Considerate Mind, Patience And Forgiveness Are Sweeter.