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.

But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy, and deals with the memory of men without distinction to merit of perpetuity.

Yet is every man his greatest enemy, and, as it were, his own executioner.

It is we that are blind, not fortune.

Oblivion is not to be hired.

Be Charitable before wealth make thee covetous, and loose not the glory of the Mite.

I am the happiest man alive. I have that in me that can convert poverty to riches, adversity to prosperity, and I am more invulnerable than Archilles; Fortune hath not one place to hit me.