To Whom God Will, There

To Persevere In Obstinate Condolement Is A Course Of Impious Stubbornness: 'tis Unmanly Grief.

Assume A Virtue If You Have It Not.

There Was Never Yet Fair Woman But She Made Mouths In A Glass.

A Wretched Soul, Bruised With Adversity, We Bid Be Quiet When We Hear It Cry; But Were We Burdened With Light Weight Of Pain, As Much Or More We Should Ourselves Complain.

The Sun With One Eye Vieweth All The World.