Of All Wild Beasts Preserve

In Small Proportions We Just Beauties See; And In Short Measures, Life May Perfect Be.

I Feel My Griefs Too, And There Scarce Is Ground Upon My Flesh T'inflict Another Wound. Yet Dare I Not Complain, Or Wish For Death With Holy Paul; Lest It Be Thought The Breath Of Discontent; Or That These Prayers Be For Weariness Of Life, Not Love Of Thee.

Mischiefs Feed / Like Beasts, Till They Be Fat, And Then They Bleed.

... The Best Pilots Have Need Of Mariners, Besides Sails, Anchor And Other Tackle.

Sweet Meat Must Have Sour Sauce.