Rough diamonds may sometimes be mistaken for worthless pebbles.

Art is the perfection of nature, ... nature is the art of God.

I could never divide myself from any man upon the difference of an opinion, or be angry with his judgment for not agreeing with me in that from which perhaps within a few days I should dissent myself.

There are wonders in true affection. It is a body of enigmas, mysteries, and riddles, wherein two so become one, as they both become two.

Whosoever enjoys not this life, I count him but an apparition, though he wear about him the sensible affections of flesh. In these moral acceptions, the way to be immortal is to die daily.

Let the fruition of things bless the possession of them, and take no satisfaction in dying but living rich.

I have tried if I could reach that great resolution . . . to be honest without a thought of Heaven or Hell.