All Things Are Artificial, For Nature Is

A Little Water Makes A Sea, A Small Puff Of Wind A Tempest.

All Things Began In Order, So Shall They End, And So Shall They Begin Again, According To The Ordainer Of Order, And The Mystical Mathematicks Of The City Of Heaven.

The Noblest Digladiation Is In The Theatre Of Ourselves.

It Is We That Are Blind, Not Fortune; Because Our Eye Is Too Dim To Discern The Mystery Of Her Effects, We Foolishly Paint Her Blind, And Hoodwink The Providence Of The Almighty.

There Is A Rabble Among The Gentry As Well As The Commonalty; A Sort Of Plebeian Heads Whose Fancy Moves With The Same Wheel As These Men?in The Same Level With Mechanics, Though Their Fortunes Do Sometimes Gild Their Infirmities And Their Purses Compound For Their Follies.