A Man May Be In As Just

Not To Be Content With Life Is The Unsatisfactory State Of Those Which Destroy Themselves; Who Being Afraid To Live, Run Blindly Upon Their Own Death, Which No Man Fears By Experience.

Men That Look No Further Than Their Outsides, Think Health An Appurtenance Unto Life, And Quarrel With Their Constitutions For Being Sick; But I That Have Examined The Parts Of Man, And Know Upon What Tender Filaments That Fabric Hangs, Do Wonder That We Are Not Always So; And Considering The Thousand Doors That Lead To Death, Do Thank My God That We Can Die But Once.

A Wise Man Is Out Of The Reach Of Fortune.

They That Endeavour To Abolish Vice Destroy Also Virtue, For Contraries, Though They Destroy One Another, Are Yet The Life Of One Another.

Gold Once Out Of The Earth Is No More Due Unto It; What Was Unreasonably Committed To The Ground, Is Reasonably Resumed From It; Let Monuments And Rich Fabricks, Not Riches, Adorn Men's Ashes.