Think It More Satisfactory To

It Is The Common Wonder Of All Men, How Among So Many Million Faces, There Should Be None Alike.

Let The Fruition Of Things Bless The Possession Of Them, And Take No Satisfaction In Dying But Living Rich.

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 Such Thing As Solitude, Nor Anything That Can Be Said To Be Alone And By Itself But God, Who Is His Own Circle, And Can Subsist By Himself.

Half Our Days We Pass In The Shadow Of The Earth; And The Brother Of Death Exacteth A Third Part Of Our Lives.