No Man Can Justly Censure Or Condemn

I Could Be Content That We Might Procreate Like Trees, Without Conjunction, Or That We Were Any Way To Perpetuate The World Without This Trivial And Vulgar Way Of Coition; It Is The Foolishest Act A Wise Man Commits In All His Life.

There Is No Royal Road Or Ready Way To Virtue.

He That Unburied Lies Wants Not His Hearse, For Unto Him A Tomb's The Universe.

The World, Which Took Six Days To Make, Is Likely To Take Us Six Thousand Years To Make Out.

But Man Is A Noble Animal, Splendid In Ashes, And Pompous In The Grave, Solemnizing Nativities And Deaths With Equal Lustre, Nor Omitting Ceremonies Of Bravery, In The Infamy Of His Nature. Life Is A Pure Flame, And We Live By An Invisible Sun Within Us.