Death hath a thousand doors to let out life. I shall find one.
The vices we scoff at in others laugh at us within ourselves.
The created World is but a small Parenthesis in Eternity.
It is we that are blind, not fortune.
There is surely a piece of divinity in us, something was before the elements, and owes no homage unto the sun.
Nor do they speak properly who say that time consumeth all things; for time is not effective, nor are bodies destroyed by it.