I Pass By That It Is Very

Chance Never Writ A Legible Book; Chance Never Built A Fair House; Chance Never Drew A Neat Picture; It Never Did Any Of These Things, Nor Ever Will; Nor Can It Be Without Absurdity Supposed Able To Do Them; Which Yet Are Works Very Gross And Rude, Very Easy And Feasible, As It Were, In Comparison To The Production Of A Flower Or A Tree.

In Defiance Of All The Tortue, Of All The Might, Of All The Malice Of The World, The Liberal Man Will Ever Be Rich; For God's Providence Is His Estate, God's Wisdom And Power Are His Defence, God's Love And Favor Are His Reward, And God's Word Is His Security.

Slander Is A Complication, A Comprisal And Sum Of All Wickedness.

An Accomplished Mathematician, I.e. A Most Wretched Orator.

It Consisteth In One Knows Not What, And Springeth Up One Can Hardly Tell How. Its Ways Are Unaccountable And Inexplicable, Being Answerable To The Numberless Rovings Of Fancy And Windings Of Language.