In The Beginning, All The World Was

Let Us Suppose The Mind To Be, As We Say, White Paper, Void Of All Characters, Without Any Ideas; How Comes It To Be Furnished? Whence Comes It By That Vast Store Which The Busy And Boundless Fancy Of Man Has Painted On It With An Almost Endless Variety? Whence Has It All The Materials Of Reason And Knowledge? To This I Answer, In One Word, From Experience.

The Care Of Souls Cannot Belong To The Civil Magistrate.

Don't Tell Me What I Can't Do!

Though The Familiar Use Of Things About Us Take Off Our Wonder, Yet It Cures Not Our Ignorance.

Crooked Things May Be As Stiff And Unflexible As Streight: And Men May Be As Positive And Peremptory In Error As In Truth.