Yes, even amongst wiser militants, how many wounds have been given, and credits slain, for the poor victory of an opinion, or beggarly conquest of a distinction.

The man without a navel still lives in me.

Half our days we pass in the shadow of the earth; and the brother of death exacteth a third part of our lives.

There is no such thing as solitude, nor anything that can be said to be alone and by itself but God, who is His own circle, and can subsist by Himself.

Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.

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

And surely, he that hath taken the true Altitude of Things, and rightly calculated the degenerate state of this Age, is not like to envy those that shall live in the next, much less three or four hundred Years hence, when no Man can comfortably imagine what Face this World will carry.