Rich with the spoils of nature.

To me avarice seems not so much a vice as a deplorable piece of madness.

A little water makes a sea, a small puff of wind a Tempest.

I believe the world grows near its end, yet is neither old nor decayed, nor will ever perish upon the ruins of its own principles.

The religion of one seems madness unto another.

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.

I had rather stand the shock of a basilisk than the fury of a merciless pen.