The Created World Is But A Small

A Little Water Makes A Sea, A Small Puff Of Wind A Tempest.

We Censure Others But As They Disagree From That Humor Which We Fancy Laudable In Ourselves, And Commend Others But For That Wherein They Seem To Quadrate And Consent With Us.

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.

Life Itself Is But The Shadow Of Death, And Souls Departed But The Shadows Of The Living.

He Who Must Needs Have Company, Must Needs Have Sometimes Bad Company.