To pore upon a book, to seek the light of truth.
Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
Virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin; and sin that amends is but patched with virtue.
But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.
Things are often spoke and seldom meant.
Many strokes, though with a little axe, hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.