The Will Of Man Is

Great Men May Jest With Saints; 'tis Wit In Them; But, In The Less Foul Profanation.

No Legacy Is So Rich As Honesty.

You Know That Love Will Creep In Service Where It Cannot Go.

Until I Know This Sure Uncertainty, I'll Entertain The Offered Fallacy.

He Is Dead And Gone, Lady, He Is Dead And Gone; At His Head A Grass-green Turf, At His Heels A Stone.