Half Our Days We Pass In The

The Noblest Digladiation Is In The Theatre Of Ourselves.

Men That Look No Further Than Their Outsides, Think Health An Appurtenance Unto Life, And Quarrel With Their Constitutions For Being Sick; But I That Have Examined The Parts Of Man, And Know Upon What Tender Filaments That Fabric Hangs, Do Wonder That We Are Not Always So; And Considering The Thousand Doors That Lead To Death, Do Thank My God That We Can Die But Once.

I Could Never Divide Myself From Any Man Upon The Difference Of An Opinion, Or Be Angry With His Judgment For Not Agreeing With Me In That From Which Perhaps Within A Few Days I Should Dissent Myself.

By Compassion We Make Others' Misery Our Own, And So, By Relieving Them, We Relieve Ourselves Also.

To Believe Only Possibilities Is Not Faith, But Mere Philosophy.