It is the common wonder of all men, how among so many million faces, there should be none alike.
Times before you, when even the living men were Antiquities; when the living might exceed the dead, and to depart this world, could not be properly said, to go unto the greater number.
A little water makes a sea, a small puff of wind a Tempest.
Every Country hath its Machiavel.
The created World is but a small Parenthesis in Eternity.
Had not almost every man suffered by the Press, or were not the tyranny thereof become universal, I had not wanted reason for complaint.