Death Aims With Fouler Spiteat

Let The Foundation Of Thy Affection Be Virtue, Then Make The Building As Rich As Glorious As Thou Canst; If The Foundation Be Beauty Or Wealth, And The Building Virtue, The Foundation Is Too Weak For The Building, And It Will Fall: Happy Is He, The Palace Of Whose Affection Is Founded Upon Virtue, Walled With Riches Glazed With Beauty, And Roofed With Honor.

Other Vices Make Their Own Way; This Makes Way For All Vices. He That Is A Drunkard Is Qualified For All Vice.

If Thou Desire Not To Be Poor, Desire Not To Be Too Rich. He Is Rich, Not That Possesses Much, But He That Covets No More; And He Is Poor, Not That Enjoys Little, But He That Wants Too Much. The Contented Mind Wants Nothing Which It Hath Not; The Covetous Mind Wants, Not Only What It Hath Not, But Likewise What It Hath.

Sin, When It Is Finished, Bringeth Forth Death.

Of All The Difficulties In A State, The Temper Of A True Government Most Felicifies And Perpetuates It; Too Sudden Alterations Distemper It. Had Nero Tuned His Kingdom As He Did His Harp, His Harmony Had Been More Honorable, And His Reign More Prosperous.