Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, United jar, and yet are loth to part.
The course of Nature is the art of God
Of boasting more than of a bomb afraid, A soldier should be modest as a maid.
The clouds may drop down titles and estates, and wealth may seek us, but wisdom must be sought.
Youth is not rich in time; it may be poor; Part with it as with money, sparing; pay No moment but in purchase of its worth, And what it's worth, ask death-beds; they can tell.
The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.