The world is like a board with holes in it, and the square men have got into the round holes, and the round into the square.

Doth the Reality of sensible things consist in being perceived? or, is it something distinct from their being perceived, and that bears no relation to the mind?

And what are these fluxions? The velocities of evanescent increments. And what are these same evanescent increments? They are neither finite quantities, nor quantities infinitely small, nor yet nothing. May we not call them the ghosts of departed quantities...?

All those who write either explicitly or by insinuation against the dignity, freedom, and immortality of the human soul, may so far forth be justly said to unhinge the principles of morality, and destroy the means of making men reasonably virtuous.

Our youth we can have but to-day, We may always find time to grow old.

I might as well doubt of my own being, as of the being of those things I actually see and feel.

For my own private satisfaction, I had rather be master of my own time than wear a diadem.