The Way Of The World Is To

The Most Ordinary Things, The Most Common And Familiar, If We Could See Them In Their True Light, Would Turn Out To Be The Grandest Miracles.

As By Some Might Be Saide Of Me: That Here I Have But Gathered A Nosegay Of Strange Floures, And Have Put Nothing Of Mine Unto It, But The Thred To Binde Them. Certes, I Have Given Unto Publike Opinion, That These Borrowed Ornaments Accompany Me; But I Meane Not They Should Cover Or Hide Me.

The World Is But A Perpetual See-saw.

Who Does Not See That I Have Taken A Road Along Which I Shall Go, Without Stopping And Without Effort, As Long As There Is Ink And Paper In The World? I Cannot Keep A Record Of My Life By My Actions; Fortune Places Them Too Low. I Keep It By My Thoughts.

It Is The Part Of Cowardice, Not Of Courage, To Go And Crouch In A Hole Under A Massive Tomb, To Avoid The Blows Of Fortune.