Prettiness dies first.
Wee leave more to do when wee dye, then wee have done.
It is a great victory that comes without blood.
There would be no great ones, if there were no little ones.
Ill natures, the more you aske them, the more they stick.
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?