As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue

In the modesty of fearful duty, I read as much as from the rattling tongue of saucy and audacious eloquence.

Better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak.

Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends.

Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor

Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail, And say there is no sin but to be rich; And being rich, my virtue then shall be To say there is no vice but beggary

Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.