There are mystically in our faces certain characters which carry in them the motto of our souls, wherein he that cannot read may read our natures.

How shall we expect charity towards others, when we are uncharitable to ourselves?

Think not silence the wisdom of fools; but, if rightly timed, the honor of wise men, who have not the infirmity, but the virtue of taciturnity.

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

The religion of one seems madness unto another.

If there be any among those common objects of hatred I do contemn and laugh at, it is that great enemy of reason, virtue, and religion, the multitude; that numerous piece of monstrosity, which, taken asunder, seem men, and the reasonable creatures of God, but, confused together, make but one great beast, and a monstrosity more prodigious than Hydra.

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.