My Appetite Comes To Me While Eating.

A Man May Be Humble Through Vainglory.

If My Intentions Were Not To Be Read In My Eyes And Voice, I Should Not Have Survived So Long Without Quarrels And Without Harm, Seeing The Indiscreet Freedom With Which I Say, Right Or Wrong, Whatever Comes Into My Head.

The World Is But A Perennial Movement. All Things In It Are In Constant Motion-the Earth, The Rocks Of The Caucasus, The Pyramids Of Egypt-both With The Common Motion And With Their Own.

My Art And Profession Is To Live.

And As Hearbes And Trees Are Bettered And Fortified By Being Transplanted, So Formes Of Speach Are Embellished And Graced By Variation.... As In Our Ordinary Language, We Shall Sometimes Meete With Excellent Phrases, And Quaint Metaphors, Whose Blithnesse Fadeth Through Age, And Colour Is Tarnish By To Common Using Them.