There Are No Grotesques In Nature; Not

Death Hath A Thousand Doors To Let Out Life. I Shall Find One.

Were The Happiness Of The Next World Is As Closely Apprehended As The Felicities Of This, It Were A Martyrdom To Live.

And Surely, He That Hath Taken The True Altitude Of Things, And Rightly Calculated The Degenerate State Of This Age, Is Not Like To Envy Those That Shall Live In The Next, Much Less Three Or Four Hundred Years Hence, When No Man Can Comfortably Imagine What Face This World Will Carry.

There Is No Such Thing As Solitude, Nor Anything That Can Be Said To Be Alone And By Itself But God, Who Is His Own Circle, And Can Subsist By Himself.

It Is We That Are Blind, Not Fortune; Because Our Eye Is Too Dim To Discern The Mystery Of Her Effects, We Foolishly Paint Her Blind, And Hoodwink The Providence Of The Almighty.