Satan like a fisher, baits his hook according to the appetite of the fish.

The ambitious climb high and perilous stairs, and never care how to come down; the desire of rising hath swallowed up their fear of a fall.

Passion costs me too much to bestow it on every trifle.

Death is as near to the young as to the old; here is all the difference: death stands behind the young man's back, before the old man's face.

Sins are so remitted, as if they had never been committed.

Grace comes into the soul as the morning sun into the world: there is first a dawning, then a mean light, and at last the sun in his excellent brightness.

Will you trust your five senses above the four Gospels?