The Soul Is Placed In The Body

Nature Has Left This Tincture In The Blood, That All Men Would Be Tyrants If They Could.

I Am Giving An Account Of What Was, Not Of What Ought Or Ought Not To Be.

I Had Dropped A Good Design, Which I Had Once Bent My Thoughts Upon, And That Was To Try If I Could Not Make Some Of My Barley Into Malt, And Then Try To Brew Myself Some Beer.

An Englishman Will Fairly Drink As Much As Will Maintain Two Families Of Dutch.

Wit Is The Fruitful Womb Where Thoughts Conceive.