Excessive sorrow laughs. Excessive joy weeps.
Innate ideas are in every man, born with him; they are truly himself. The man who says that we have no innate ideas must be a fool and knave, having no conscience or innate science.
Drive your cart and plow over the bones of the dead.
Dip him in the river who loves water.
The cut worm forgives the plow.
The Angel that presided o'er my birth Said, 'Little creature, formed of joy and mirth, Go love without the help of any thing on earth'.