Our civilization depends largely on paper.

There is an herb named in Latine Convolvulus (i.e. with wind), growing among shrubs and bushes, with carrieth a flower not unlike to this Lilly, save that it yeeldeth no smell nor hath those chives within; for whitenesse they resemble one another very much, as if Nature in making this floure were a learning and trying her skill how to frame the Lilly indeed.

True glory consists in doing what deserves to be written, and writing what deserves to be read.

No man's abilities are so remarkably shining as not to stand in need of a proper opportunity.

The desire to know a thing is heightened by its gratification being deferred.

Human nature is fond of novelty.

The only thing man knows instinctively is how to weep.