Men that look no further than their outsides, think health an appurtenance unto life, and quarrel with their constitutions for being sick; but I that have examined the parts of man, and know upon what tender filaments that fabric hangs, do wonder that we are not always so; and considering the thousand doors that lead to death, do thank my God that we can die but once.

It is the common wonder of all men, how among so many million faces, there should be none alike.

Content may dwell in all stations. To be low but above contempt may be high enough to be happy.

I can hardly thinke there was any scared into Heaven; they go the surest way to Heaven who would serve God without a Hell; other Mercenaries, that crouch unto Him in feare of Hell, though they terme themselves servants, are indeed but the slaves of the Almighty.

There is no royal road or ready way to virtue.

For there is a music wherever there is a harmony, order, or proportion, and thus far we may maintain the music of the spheres.

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