We Term Sleep A Death By Which

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.

Be Able To Be Alone. Lose Not The Advantage Of Solitude.

Had Not Almost Every Man Suffered By The Press, Or Were Not The Tyranny Thereof Become Universal, I Had Not Wanted Reason For Complaint.

A Man May Be In As Just Possession Of The Truth As Of A City, And Yet Be Forced To Surrender.

A Man Is Never Alone, Not Only Because He Is With Himself And His Own Thoughts, But Because He Is With The Devil, Who Ever Consorts With Our Solitude.