Griefs Assured Are Felt Before They Come.

Imitators Are But A Servile Kind Of Cattle.

Love Is A Passion Which Kindles Honor Into Noble Acts.

When I Consider Life, It Is All A Cheat. Yet Fooled With Hope, People Favor This Deceit.

Content With Poverty, My Soul I Arm; And Virtue, Though In Rags, Will Keep Me Warm.

For All Have Not The Gift Of Martyrdom.