For me, who only desire to become wise, not more learned or eloquent, these logical or Aristotelian dispositions of parts are of no use.

Whom conscience, ne'er asleep, Wounds with incessant strokes, not loud, but deep.

He that first likened glory to a shadow did better than he was aware of. They are both of them things excellently vain. Glory also, like a shadow, goes sometimes before the body, and sometimes in length infinitely exceeds it.

Ambition sufficiently plagues her proselytes, by keeping themselves always in show, like the statue of a public place.

The pleasantest things in the world are pleasant thoughts, and the great art of life is to have as many of them as possible.

There is no passion so contagious as that of fear.

But sure there is need of other remedies than dreaming, a weak contention of art against nature.