To Me Avarice Seems Not So Much

For The World, I Count It Not An Inn, But A Hospital; And A Place Not To Live, But To Die In.

Nature Proceeds Little By Little From Things Lifeless To Animal Life In Such A Way That It Is Impossible To Determine The Exact Line Ure Hath Made One World, And Art Another. In Brief, All Things Are Artificial; For Nature Is The Art Of God.

To Believe Only Possibilities Is Not Faith, But Mere Philosophy.

All The Wonders You Seek Are Within Yourself.

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