Ingratitude Is Monstrous.

Like As The Waves Make Towards The Pebbl'd Shore, So Do Our Minutes, Hasten To Their End.

Good Things Should Be Praised.

For We, Which Now Behold These Present Days, Have Eyes To Wonder, But Lack Tongues To Praise.

For Death Remembered Should Be Like A Mirror, Who Tells Us Life’s But Breath, To Trust It Error.

There's Place And Means For Every Man Alive.