Study Prophecies When They Are Become Histories.

For The World, I Count It Not An Inn, But A Hospital; And A Place Not To Live, But To Die In.

I Could Be Content That We Might Procreate Like Trees, Without Conjunction, Or That We Were Any Way To Perpetuate The World Without This Trivial And Vulgar Way Of Coition; It Is The Foolishest Act A Wise Man Commits In All His Life.

The Long Habit Of Living Indisposeth Us For Dying.

How Shall We Expect Charity Towards Others, When We Are Uncharitable To Ourselves?

There Are Wonders In True Affection. It Is A Body Of Enigmas, Mysteries, And Riddles, Wherein Two So Become One, As They Both Become Two.