My friends are my estate. Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them. They tell me those who were poor early have different views of gold. I don't know how that is. God is not so wary as we, else He would give us no friends, lest we forget Him.
I do not feel I could give up all for Christ, were I called to die.
My friends are my estate. Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them!
If I shouldn't be alive When the Robins come, Give the one in Red Cravat, A Memorial crumb.
I do not like the man who squanders life for fame; give me the man who living makes a name.
Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door.