The continuous work of our life is to build death.
I have here only made a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own but the thread that tied them together.
I would rather be old for a shorter time than be old before my time.
We seem ambitious God's whole work to undo. ...With new diseases on ourselves we war, And with new physic, a worse engine far.
The study of books is a drowsy and feeble exercise which does not warm you up.
And truly Philosophy is but sophisticated poetry. Whence do those ancient writers derive all their authority but from the poets?