Those that want friends to open themselves unto are cannibals of their own hearts.

Mysteries are due to secrecy.

The world's a bubble, and the life of man, Less than a span.

They that reverence to much old times are but a scorn to the new.

Certainly man is of kin to the beasts by his body; and if he be not kin to God by his spirit, he is a base and ignoble creature.

The men of experiment are like the ant, they only collect and use; the reasoners resemble spiders, who make cobwebs out of their own substance. But the bee takes the middle course, it gathers its material from the flowers of the garden and field, but transforms and digests it by a power of its own.

O life! An age to the miserable, a moment to the happy.