Many-have too rashly charged the troops of error, and remain as trophies unto the enemies of truth.

Circles and right lines limit and close all bodies, and the mortal right-lined circle must conclude and shut up all.

We all labour against our own cure, for death is the cure of all diseases.

The noblest Digladiation is in the Theatre of ourselves.

Affection should not be too sharp eyed, and love is not made by magnifying glasses.

To extend our memories by monuments, whose death we daily pray for, and whose duration we cannot hope, without injury to our expectations in the advent of the last day, were a contradiction to our belief.

What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, though puzzling questions, are not beyond all conjecture.