A man should be what he seems.
Comfort's in heaven, and we are on the earth
Then was I as a tree whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night, a storm or robbery, call it what you will, shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, and left me bare to weather.
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
Who can control his fate?
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.