All Things Are Artificial, For Nature Is

We Censure Others But As They Disagree From That Humor Which We Fancy Laudable In Ourselves, And Commend Others But For That Wherein They Seem To Quadrate And Consent With Us.

I Have Tried If I Could Reach That Great Resolution . . . To Be Honest Without A Thought Of Heaven Or Hell.

It Is We That Are Blind, Not Fortune; Because Our Eye Is Too Dim To Discern The Mystery Of Her Effects, We Foolishly Paint Her Blind, And Hoodwink The Providence Of The Almighty.

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.

Many-have Too Rashly Charged The Troops Of Error, And Remain As Trophies Unto The Enemies Of Truth.