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

How the purer spirit is united to his clod, is a knot too hard for fallen humanity to untie.

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

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

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

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

The understanding also hath its idiosyncrasies as well as other faculties.