I Envy No Man That Knows More

God Hath Varied The Inclinations Of Men According To The Variety Of Actions To Be Performed.

Whosoever Enjoys Not This Life, I Count Him But An Apparition, Though He Wear About Him The Sensible Affections Of Flesh. In These Moral Acceptions, The Way To Be Immortal Is To Die Daily.

There Is A Rabble Among The Gentry As Well As The Commonalty; A Sort Of Plebeian Heads Whose Fancy Moves With The Same Wheel As These Men?in The Same Level With Mechanics, Though Their Fortunes Do Sometimes Gild Their Infirmities And Their Purses Compound For Their Follies.

The Discourses Of The Table Among True Loving Friends Are Held In Strict Silence.

Had Not Almost Every Man Suffered By The Press, Or Were Not The Tyranny Thereof Become Universal, I Had Not Wanted Reason For Complaint.