Let Us Permit Nature To Have Her

Can Anything Be Imagined So Ridiculous That This Miserable And Wretched Creature, Who Is Not So Much As Master Of Himself, But Subject To The Injuries Of All Things, Should Call Himself Master And Emperor Of The World, Of Which He Has Not Power To Know The Least Part, Much Less To Command The Whole?

There Is No Passion So Much Transports The Sincerity Of Judgment As Doth Anger

I Have Here Only Made A Nosegay Of Culled Flowers, And Have Brought Nothing Of My Own But The Thread That Tied Them Together.

He Who Does Not Live In Some Degree For Others, Hardly Lives For Himself.

If I Can, I Shall Keep My Death From Saying Anything That My Life Has Not Already Said.