Paines to get, care to keep, feare to lose.
Call me not an olive, till thou see me gathered.
He that cockers his child, provides for his enemie.
Many kiss the hand they wish cut off.
Whether you boyle snow or pound it, you can have but water of it.
Thou that hast given so much to me give me one thing more, a grateful heart: not thankful when it pleaseth me, as if Thy blessings had spare days, but such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise.