Power As Is Really Divided, And As

As A Draft-animal Is Yoked In A Wagon, Even So The Spirit Is Yoked In This Body

I Know Not How The World Will Receive It, Nor How It May Reflect On Those That Shall Seem To Favor It. For In A Way Beset With Those That Contend, On One Side For Too Great Liberty , And On The Other Side For Too Much Authority , 'tis Hard To Passe Between The Points Of Both Unwounded.

Whatsoever Is The Object Of Any Man's Appetite Or Desire; That Is It Which He For His Part Calleth Good: And The Object Of His Hate And Aversion, Evil.

For It Is Not The Shape, But Their Use, That Makes Them Angels.

From Whence It Happens, That They Which Trust To Books, Do As They That Cast Up Many Little Sums Into A Greater, Without Considering Whether Those Little Sums Were Rightly Cast Up Or Not; And At Last Finding The Error Visible, And Not Mistrusting Their First Grounds, Know Not Which Way To Clear Themselves; But Spend Time In Fluttering Over Their Books, As Birds That Entering By The Chimney, And Finding Themselves Enclosed In A Chamber, Flutter At The False Light Of A Glass Window, For Want Of Wit To Consider Which Way They Came In.