Truth Is The Highest Thing

Death Is The End Of Every Worldly Pain.

People Can Die Of Mere Imagination.

In Love There Is But Little Rest.

I Hold A Mouses Wit Not Worth A Leke, That Hath But On Hole For To Sterten To.

For Out Of Old Fields, As Men Saith, Cometh All This New Corn From Year To Year; And Out Of Old Books, In Good Faith, Cometh All This New Science That Men Learn.