It Is We That Are Blind, Not

I Could Be Content That We Might Procreate Like Trees, Without Conjunction, Or That We Were Any Way To Perpetuate The World Without This Trivial And Vulgar Way Of Coition; It Is The Foolishest Act A Wise Man Commits In All His Life.

Festination May Prove Precipitation; Deliberating Delay May Be Wise Cunctation.

The Religion Of One Seems Madness Unto Another.

The Created World Is But A Small Parenthesis In Eternity.

To Be Content With Death May Be Better Than To Desire It.