The irresolute man flecks from one egg to another, so hatches nothing.

Perfection is immutable. But for things imperfect, change is the way to perfect them.

It is a most unhappy state to be at a distance with God: man needs no greater infelicity than to be left to himself.

Discontent is like ink poured into water, which fills the whole fountain full of blackness.

I love the man that is modestly valiant; that stirs not till he most needs, and then to purpose. A continued patience I commend not.

There is no one subsists by himself alone.

How many would die did not hope sustain them.