That though we are certain of many things, yet that Certainty is no absolute Infallibility, there still remains the possibility of our being mistaken in all matters of humane Belief and Inquiry.

The woman in us still prosecutes a deceit like that begun in the garden.

The sages of old live again in us, and in opinions there is a metempsychosis.

What's impossible to all humanity may be possible to the metaphysics and physiology of angels.

We have a mistaken notion of antiquity, calling that so which in truth is the world's nonage.

To converse at the distance of the Indes by means of sympathetic contrivances may be as natural to future times as to us is a literary correspondence.

Justice is but the distributing to everything according to the requirements of its nature.