There Is No Man Alone,

Life Itself Is But The Shadow Of Death, And Souls Departed But The Shadows Of The Living: All Things Fall Under This Name. The Sun Itself Is But The Dark Simulacrum, And The Light But The Shadow Of God.

Art Is The Perfection Of Nature, ... Nature Is The Art Of God.

A Diamond, Which Is The Hardest Of Stones, Not Yielding Unto Steel, Emery Or Any Other Thing, Is Yet Made Soft By The Blood Of A Goat.

I Am Not So Much Afraid Of Death, As Ashamed Thereof, 'tis The Very Disgrace And Ignominy Of Our Natures.

Thus There Are Two Books From Whence I Collect My Divinity; Besides That Written One Of God, Another Of His Servant Nature, That Universal And Public Manuscript, That Lies Expans'd Unto The Eyes Of All; Those That Never Saw Him In The One, Have Discovered Him In The Other.