Between the businesse of life and the day of death, a space ought to be interposed.
Honour without profit is a ring on the finger.
The Physitian owes all to the patient, but the patient owes nothing to him but a little mony.
He that cannot forgive others, breaks the bridge over which he himself must pass if he would ever reach heaven; for everyone has need to be forgiven.
Lord! who hath praise enough?
God heales, and the Physitian hath the thankes.