It is ever the invisible that is the object of our profoundest worship. With the lover it is not the seen but the unseen that he muses upon.
Mortal beauty stings while it delights.
The knowledge beyond all other knowledge is the knowledge how to excuse.
We trifle when we assign limits to our desires, since nature hath set none.
Truth, like the sun, submits to be obscured; but, like the sun, only for a time.
Can that which is the greatest virtue in philosophy, doubt (called by Galileo the father of invention), be in religion what the priests term it, the greatest of sins?