Our passions are like convulsion fits, which, though they make us stronger for a time, leave us the weaker ever after.

Thus let me live, unseen, unknown, Thus unlamented let me die, Steal from the world, and not a stone Tell where I lie.

A God without dominion, providence, and final causes, is nothing else but fate and nature.

I find myself hoping a total end of all the unhappy divisions of mankind by party-spirit, which at best is but the madness of many for the gain of a few.

Sure of their qualities and demanding praise, more go to ruined fortunes than are raised.

And write about it, Goddess, and about it!

Ask you what provocation I have had? The strong antipathy of good to bad.