Miracles Arise From Our Ignorance Of Nature,

Beauty Is The True Prerogative Of Women, And So Peculiarly Their Own, That Our Sex, Though Naturally Requiring Another Sort Of Feature, Is Never In Its Lustre But When Puerile And Beardless, Confused And Mixed With Theirs.

Age Imprints More Wrinkles A In The Mind, Than It Does In The Face, And Souls Are Never, Or Very Rarely Seen, That In Growing Old Do Not Smell Sour And Musty. Man Moves All Together, Both Towards His Perfection And Decay.

It Is Setting A High Value Upon Our Opinions To Roast Men And Women Alive On Account Of Them.

If My Mind Could Gain A Firm Footing, I Would Not Make Essays, I Would Make Decisions; But It Is Always In Apprenticeship And On Trial.

The Only Good Histories Are Those That Have Been Written By The Persons Themselves Who Commanded In The Affairs Whereof They Write.