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.

Gold once out of the earth is no more due unto it; what was unreasonably committed to the ground, is reasonably resumed from it; let monuments and rich fabricks, not riches, adorn men's ashes.

The heart of man is the place the devil dwells in; I feel sometimes a hell within myself.

Light is but the shadow of God.

Circles and right lines limit and close all bodies, and the mortal right-lined circle must conclude and shut up all.

I have often admired the mystical way of Pythagoras, and the secret magick of numbers.

With what shift and pains we come into the World we remember not; but 'tis commonly found no easy matter to get out of it.