The Stone Often Recoils On The Head

[on Being Told Mary, Queen Of Scots, Was Taller Than She:] Then She Is Too High, For I Myself Am Neither Too High Nor Too Low.

Mr. Doctor, That Loose Gown Becomes You So Well I Wonder Your Notions Should Be So Narrow.

I Cannot Find It In Me To Fear A Man Who Took Ten Years A Learning Of His Alphabet.

The Doubt Of Future Foes Exiles My Present Joy.

I Have No Desire To Make Windows Into Men's Souls.