For It Can Never Be That War

So That In The First Place, I Put For A General Inclination Of All Mankind A Perpetual And Restless Desire Of Power After Power, That Ceaseth Only In Death. And The Cause Of This Is Not Always That A Man Hopes For A More Intensive Delight Than He Has Already Attained To, Or That He Cannot Be Content With A Moderate Power: But Because He Cannot Assure The Power And Means To Live Well, Which He Hath Present, Without The Acquisition Of More.

Such Is The Nature Of Men, That Howsoever They May Acknowledge Many Others To Be More Witty, Or More Eloquent, Or More Learned; Yet They Will Hardly Believe There Be Many So Wise As Themselves.

Life Is Nasty, Brutish, And Short

... It Is One Thing To Desire, Another To Be In Capacity Fit For What We Desire.

Whatsoever Accidents Or Qualities Our Senses Make Us Think There Be In The World, They Are Not There, But Are Seemings And Apparitions Only. The Things That Really Are In The World Without Us, Are Those Motions By Which These Seemings Are Caused. And This Is The Great Deception Of Sense, Which Also Is By Sense To Be Corrected. For As Sense Telleth Me, When I See Directly, That The Colour Seemeth To Be In The Object; So Also Sense Telleth Me, When I See By Reflection, That Colour Is Not In The Object.