There Is No Perfecter Endowment

A Fool Cannot Hold His Tongue.

I Had Rather Men Should Ask Why My Statue Is Not Set Up, Than Why It Is.

The First Man . . . Ventured To Call Food And Nourishment The Parts That Had A Little Before Bellowed And Cried, Moved And Lived. How Could His Eyes Endure The Slaughter When Throats Were Slit And Hides Flayed And Limbs Torn From Limb? How Could His Nose Endure The Stench? How Was It That The Pollution Did Not Turn Away His Taste, Which Made Contact With The Sores Of Others And Sucked Juices And Serums From Mortal Wounds?

It Is The Usual Consolation Of The Envious, If They Cannot Maintain Their Superiority, To Represent Those By Whom They Are Surpassed As Inferior To Some One Else.

An Old Doting Fool, With One Foot Already In The Grave.