The Religious Man Fears, The Man Of

Love Is A Second Life.

Fame Is A Good So Wholly Foreign To Our Natures That We Have No Faculty In The Soul Adapted To It, Nor Any Organ In The Body To Relish It; An Object Of Desire Placed Out Of The Possibility Of Fruition.

In Rising Sighs And Falling Tears.

A Vast Space Naturally Raises In My Thoughts The Idea Of An Almighty Being.

Physic, For The Most Part, Is Nothing Else But The Substitute Of Exercise And Temperance.