Each famous author of antiquity whom I recover places a new offence and another cause of dishonor to the charge of earlier generations, who, not satisfied with their own disgraceful barrenness, permitted the fruit of other minds, and the writings that their ancestors had produced by toil and application, to perish through insufferable neglect. Although they had nothing of their own to hand down to those who were to come after, they robbed posterity of its ancestral heritage.

Do you suppose there is any living man so unreasonable that if he found himself stricken with a dangerous ailment he would not anxiously desire to regain the blessing of health?

I desire that death find me ready and writing, or if it please Christ, praying and intears.

How difficult it is to save the bark of reputation from the rocks of ignorance.

How fortune brings to earth the over-sure!

To be able to say how much love, is love but little.

The greater I am, the greater shall be my efforts.