Let your mind, happily contented with the present, care not what the morrow will bring with it.

I shall not altogether die.

Life is largely a matter of expectation.

Only a stomach that rarely feels hungry scorns common things.

I prayed only for a small piece of land, a garden, an ever-flowing spring, and bit of woods.

Poets wish to profit or to please.

Even virtue followed beyond reason's rule May stamp the just man knave, the sage a fool.