So little in his purse, so much upon his back.

'Mongst all these stirs of discontented strife,O, let me lead an academic life;To know much, and to think for nothing, knowNothing to have, yet think we have enow.

Death borders upon our birth, and our cradle stands in the grave.

There is many a rich stone laid up in the bowels of the earth, many a fair pearl laid up in the bosom of the sea, that never was seen, nor never shall be.

Moderation is the silken string running through the pearl chain of all virtues.

Perfection is the child of time…

He is wealthy enough, that wanteth not: he is great enough, that is his own master: he is happy enough, that lives to die well.