Every Man Bears The Whole Stamp Of

I Want Death To Find Me Planting My Cabbages.

He Who Does Not Live In Some Degree For Others, Hardly Lives For Himself.

There Are Few Men Who Dare To Publish To The World The Prayers They Make To Almighty God.

There Is More Ado To Interpret Interpretations Than To Interpret Things, And More Books Upon Books Than Upon Any Other Subject; We Do Nothing But Comment Upon One Another. Every Place Swarms With Commentaries; Of Authors There Is Great Scarcity.

There Is Perhaps No More Obvious Vanity Than To Write Of It So Vainly.