Blessedness Is Promised To The Peacemaker, Not

Poor Thieves In Halters We Behold; And Great Thieves In Their Chains Of Gold.

Death Aims With Fouler Spiteat Fairer Marks.

The Strong Desires Of Man's Insatiate Breast May Stand Possess'd Of All That Earth Can Give; But Earth Can Give No Rest.

O Lust, Thou Infernal Fire, Whose Fuel Is Gluttony; Whose Flame Is Pride, Whose Sparkles Are Wanton Words; Whose Smoke Is Infamy; Whose Ashes Are Uncleanness; Whose End Is Hell.

I Here Present Thee With A Hive Of Bees, Laden Some With Wax, And Some With Honey. Fear Not To Approach! There Are No Wasps, There Are No Hornets Here. If Some Wanton Bee Chance To Buzz About Thine Ears, Stand Thy Ground And Hold Thy Hands-there's None Will Sting Thee, If Thou Strike Not First. If Any Do, She Hath Honey In Her Bag Will Cure Thee Too.