Men live by intervals of reason under the sovereignty of humor and passion.

The heart of man is the place the devil dwells in; I feel sometimes a hell within myself.

Think not silence the wisdom of fools; but, if rightly timed, the honor of wise men, who have not the infirmity, but the virtue of taciturnity.

Sleep is death's younger brother, and so like him, that I never dare trust him without my prayers.

There is surely a piece of divinity in us, something was before the elements, and owes no homage unto the sun.

Death hath a thousand doors to let out life. I shall find one.

That miracles have been, I do believe; that they may yet be wrought by the living, I do not deny: but have no confidence in those which are fathered on the dead.