Lord, what music hast thou provided for Thy saints in heaven, when Thou affordest bad men such music on earth!

We see but the outside of a rich man's happiness; few consider him to be like the silkworm, that, when she seems to play, is at the very same time consuming herself.

Let me tell you that every misery I miss is a new blessing.

That which is everybody's business is nobody's business.

The person who loses their conscience has nothing left worth keeping.

And though it is most certain, that two lutes being both strung and turned to an equal pitch, and then one played upon, the other will warble a faint audible harmony in answer to the same tune: yet many will not believe there is any such thing as sympathy of souls, and I am well pleased that every reader do enjoy his own opinion.

An excellent angler, and now with God.