Men do not know the natural infirmity of their mind: it does nothing but ferret and quest, and keeps incessantly whirling around, building up and becoming entangled in its own work, like silkworms, and is suffocated in it. A mouse in a pitch barrel...thinks it notices from a distance some sort of glimmer of imaginary light and truth; but while running toward it, it is crossed by so many difficulties and obstacles, and diverted by so many new quests, that it strays from the road, bewildered.

Tis so much to be a king, that he only is so by being so.

Only he can judge of matters great and high whose soul is likewise.

Speaking is half his that speaks, and half his that hears.

Sometimes it is a good choice not to choose at all.

Of all our infirmities, the most savage is to despise our being.

The most unhappy and frail creatures are men and yet they are the proudest.