It is a small soul, buried beneath the weight of affairs, that does not know how to get clean away from them, that cannot put them aside and pick them up again.

No spiritual mind remains within itself; it is always aspiring and going beyond its own strength.

Nature has with a Motherly Tenderness observed this, that the Action she has enjoyned us for our Necessity should be also pleasant to us, and invites us to them, not only by Reason, but also by Appetite: and ’tis Injustice to infringe her Laws.

Life itself is neither a good nor an evil: life is where good or evil find a place, depending on how you make it for them.

I have here only made a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own but the thread that tied them together.

A man must learn to endure patiently what he cannot avoid conveniently.

The middle sort of historians (of which the most part are) spoil all; they will chew our meat for us.