Where There Is Plenty, Charity

A Combed Writing Will Cost Both Sweat And The Rubbing Of The Brain. And Combed I Wish It, Not Frizzled Or Curled.

If Ever I Should Affect Injustice, It Would Be In This, That I Might Do Courtesies And Receive None.

Of All Trees, I Observe God Hath Chosen The Vine, A Low Plant That Creeps Upon The Helpful Wall; Of All Beasts, The Soft And Patient Lamb; Of All Fowls, The Mild And Guileless Dove. Christ Is The Rose Of The Field, And The Lily Of The Valley. When God Appeared To Moses, It Was Not In The Lofty Cedar Nor The Sturdy Oak Nor The Spreading Palm; But In A Bush, A Humble, Slender, Abject Shrub; As If He Would, By These Elections, Check The Conceited Arrogance Of Man.

It Is Much Safer To Reconcile An Enemy Than To Conquer Him; Victory May Deprive Him Of His Poison, But Reconciliation Of His Will.

Irresolution Is A Worse Vice Than Rashness. He That Shoots Best May Sometimes Miss The Mark; But He That Shoots Not At All Can Never Hit It. Irresolution Loosens All The Joints Of A State; Like An Ague, It Shakes Not This Nor That Limb, But All The Body Is At Once In A Fit. The Irresolute Man Is Lifted From One Place To Another; So Hatcheth Nothing, But Addles All His Actions.