Our birth is nothing but our death begun; As tapers waste, that instant they take fire.

Let no man trust the first false step of guilt; it hangs upon a precipice, whose steep descent in last perdition ends.

What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.

An angel's arm can't snatch me from the grave; legions of angels can't confine me there.

Read nature; nature is a friend to truth.

In an active life is sown the seed of wisdom... And age, if it has not esteem, has nothing.

Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor ; who lives to fancy, never can be rich.