Women are Books, and Men the Readers be,
Who sometimes in those Books Erratas see;
Yet oft the Reader’s raptur’d with each Line,
Fair Print and Paper fraught with Sense divine;
Tho’ some neglectful seldom care to read,
And faithful Wives no more than Bibles heed.
Are Women Books? says Hodge, then would mine were
An Almanack, to change her every Year.
Wise men, when in doubt as to whether to speak or remain silent, give themselves the benefit of the doubt by keeping quiet.
The pride connected with knowing and sensing lies like a blinding fog over the eyes and senses of men, thus deceiving them concerning the value of existence.
In every bit of honest writing in the world… there is a base theme. Try to understand men, if you understand each other you will be kind to each other. Knowing a man well never leads to hate and nearly always leads to love.
God sent me on earth. He send me to do something, and nobody can stop me. If God want to stop me, then I stop. Man never can.
God gave all men all earth to love,
But since our hearts are small,
Ordained for each one spot should prove
Belovèd over all.