Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave.

A little water makes a sea, a small puff of wind a Tempest.

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

Nor do they speak properly who say that time consumeth all things; for time is not effective, nor are bodies destroyed by it.

The world, which took six days to make, is likely to take us six thousand years to make out.

Grave-stones tell truth scarce forty years. Generations pass while families last not three oaks.

There is nothing strictly immortal, but immortality. Whatever hath no beginning may be confident of no end.