A man may be in as just possession of the truth as of a city, and yet be forced to surrender.

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.

Art is the perfection of nature, ... nature is the art of God.

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.

To be nameless in worthy deeds exceeds an infamous history.

As sins proceed they ever multiply, and like figures in arithmetic, the last stands for more than all that wert before it.

Things evidently false are not only printed, but many things of truth most falsely set forth.