Whilst my physicians by their love are grown Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie Flat on this bed.
But I do nothing upon myself, and yet I am my own executioner.
What if this present were the world's last night?
Contemplative and bookish men must of necessity be more quarrelsome than others, because they contend not about matter of fact, nor can determine their controversies by any certain witnesses, nor judges. But as long as they go towards peace, that is Truth, it is no matter which way.
Our critical day is not the very day of our death; but the whole course of our life.
Between these two, the denying of sins, which we have done, and the bragging of sins, which we have not done, what a space, what a compass is there, for millions of millions of sins!