Above all, believe it, the sweetest canticle is Nunc dimittis, when a man hath obtained worthy ends and expectations. Death hath this also, that it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy.

Great Hypocrites are the real atheists.

Men are rather beholden ... generally to chance or anything else, than to logic, for the invention of arts and sciences.

I use all sorts of things to work with: old brooms, old sweaters, and all kinds of peculiar tools and materials... I paint to excite myself, and make something for myself.

To suffering there is a limit; to fearing, none.

For a crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love.

We cannot command Nature except by obeying her.