Folly enlarges men's desires while it lessens their capacities.
Passion is the drunkenness of the mind.
Pain is an outcry of sin.
Guilt upon the conscience, like rust upon iron, both defiles and consumes it, gnawing and creeping into it, as that does which at last eats out the very heart and substance of the metal.
Similes prove nothing, but yet greatly lighten and relieve the tedium of argument.
Most of the appearance of mirth in the world is not mirth, it is art. The wounded spirit is not seen, but walks under a disguise.