(death Is) A Leap Into The Dark.

Things Evidently False Are Not Only Printed, But Many Things Of Truth Most Falsely Set Forth.

Gardens Were Before Gardeners, And But Some Hours After The Earth.

All The Wonders You Seek Are Within Yourself.

I Would Not Live Over My Hours Past ... Not Unto Cicero's Ground Because I Have Lived Them Well, But For Fear I Should Live Them Worse.

Praise Is A Debt We Owe Unto The Virtue Of Others, And Due Unto Our Own From All Whom Malice Hath Not Made Mutes, Or Envy Struck Dumb.