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

To be content with death may be better than to desire it.

I have often admired the mystical way of Pythagoras, and the secret magick of numbers.

Age doth not rectify, but incurvate our natures, turning bad dispositions into worser habits.

I believe the world grows near its end, yet is neither old nor decayed, nor will ever perish upon the ruins of its own principles.

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.

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