Grasp not at much, for fear thou losest all.
God's mill grinds slow, but sure.
Ill comes in by ells, and goes out by inches.
He that takes not up a pin, slights his wife.
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?
Pursue not a victory too far. He hath conquered well that hath made his enemy fly; thou mayest beat him to a desperate resistance, which may ruin thee.