The Discourses Of The Table Among True

Every Country Hath Its Machiavel.

I Can Hardly Thinke There Was Any Scared Into Heaven; They Go The Surest Way To Heaven Who Would Serve God Without A Hell; Other Mercenaries, That Crouch Unto Him In Feare Of Hell, Though They Terme Themselves Servants, Are Indeed But The Slaves Of The Almighty.

A Wise Man Is Out Of The Reach Of Fortune.

Whosoever Enjoys Not This Life, I Count Him But An Apparition, Though He Wear About Him The Sensible Affections Of Flesh. In These Moral Acceptions, The Way To Be Immortal Is To Die Daily.

Rich With The Spoils Of Nature.