The continuous work of our life is to build death.

Lying is a terrible vice, it testifies that one despises God, but fears men.

Confidence in others' honesty is no light testimony of one's own integrity.

The most regular and most perfect soul in the world has but too much to do to keep itself upright from being overthrown by its own weakness.

Might I have had my own will, I would not have married Wisdom herself, if she would have had me.

Glory and repose are things that cannot possibly inhabit in one and the same place.

The man who thinks he knows does not yet know what knowing is