I Am Not So Much Afraid Of

Be Substantially Great In Thyself, And More Than Thou Appearest Unto Others.

Sleep Is Death's Younger Brother, And So Like Him, That I Never Dare Trust Him Without My Prayers.

Nature Proceeds Little By Little From Things Lifeless To Animal Life In Such A Way That It Is Impossible To Determine The Exact Line Ure Hath Made One World, And Art Another. In Brief, All Things Are Artificial; For Nature Is The Art Of God.

Sleep Is A Death, O Make Me Try By Sleeping, What It Is To Die, And As Gently Lay My Head On My Grave, As Now My Bed.

Thus There Are Two Books From Whence I Collect My Divinity; Besides That Written One Of God, Another Of His Servant Nature, That Universal And Public Manuscript, That Lies Expans'd Unto The Eyes Of All; Those That Never Saw Him In The One, Have Discovered Him In The Other.