I love to lose myself in a mystery to pursue my reason to an O altitudo.
There is musick, even in the beauty and the silent note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument.
As sins proceed they ever multiply, and like figures in arithmetic, the last stands for more than all that wert before it.
For my part, I have ever believed, and do now know, that there are witches.
A wise man is out of the reach of fortune.
That miracles have been, I do believe; that they may yet be wrought by the living, I do not deny: but have no confidence in those which are fathered on the dead.