The ill that comes out of our mouth falles into our bosome.
Water a farre off quencheth not fire.
By the needle you shall draw the thread, and by that which is past, see how that which is to come will be drawne on.
If you must flie, flie well.
It's good tying the sack before it be full.
The God of love my shepherd is, And he that doth me feed: While he is mine, and I am his, What can I want or need?