He who would pry behind the scenes oft sees a counterfeit.
Seas are the fields of combat for the winds; but when they sweep along some flowery coast, their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.
Having mourned your sin, for outward Eden lost, find paradise within.
Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.
Mighty things from small beginnings grow.
For those whom God to ruin has design'd, He fits for fate, and first destroys their mind.