To Cultivate A Garden Is To Walk

Fortune, Like A Coy Mistress, Loves To Yield Her Favors, Though She Makes Us Wrest Them From Her.

The Passions Are Like Fire, Useful In A Thousand Ways And Dangerous Only In One, Through Their Excess.

Can That Which Is The Greatest Virtue In Philosophy, Doubt (called By Galileo The Father Of Invention), Be In Religion What The Priests Term It, The Greatest Of Sins?

Nature Has Provided For The Exigency Of Privation, By Putting The Measure Of Our Necessities Far Below The Measure Of Our Wants. Our Necessities Are To Our Wants As Falstaff's Pennyworth Of Bread To His Any Quantity Of Sack.

God Has Created Too Few Unmixed Evils To Warrant The Belief That Death Is One Of Them. In All Things Else In Nature, Goodness So Abounds That We Are Authorized To Infer That It Does Not Stop Even At The Grave. It Is Only That Her Footprints Have Become Invisible.