Ill habits gather unseen degrees, as brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.
Pride - Lord of human kind
Riches cannot rescue from the grave, which claims alike the monarch and the slave.
Ever a glutton, at another's cost, But in whose kitchen dwells perpetual frost.
Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more; Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate's: Souls know no conquerors.
Thus all below is strength, and all above is grace.