I Love To Lose Myself In A

Yet Is Every Man His Greatest Enemy, And, As It Were, His Own Executioner.

Grave-stones Tell Truth Scarce Forty Years. Generations Pass While Families Last Not Three Oaks.

Oblivion Is Not To Be Hired.

If There Be Any Among Those Common Objects Of Hatred I Do Contemn And Laugh At, It Is That Great Enemy Of Reason, Virtue, And Religion, The Multitude; That Numerous Piece Of Monstrosity, Which, Taken Asunder, Seem Men, And The Reasonable Creatures Of God, But, Confused Together, Make But One Great Beast, And A Monstrosity More Prodigious Than Hydra.

Were The Happiness Of The Next World Is As Closely Apprehended As The Felicities Of This, It Were A Martyrdom To Live.