No man is an island, entire of itself.
There is no health; physicians say that we, at best, enjoy but neutrality.
I find no abhorring in my appetite.
Young men mend not their sight by using old men’s spectacles.
Women are like the arts, forced unto none, Open to all searchers, unprized, if unknown.
Who knows his virtues name or place, hath none.
Oft from new truths, and new phrase, new doubts grow, As strange attire aliens the men we know.
Though truth and falsehood be Near twins, yet truth a little elder is.
To roam Giddily, and be everywhere but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.
Be more than man, or thou’rt less than an ant.
In best understandings, sin began, Angels sinned first, then Devils, and then Man.
Between these two, the denying of sins, which we have done, and the bragging of sins, which we have not done, what a space, what a compass is there, for millions of millions of sins!
Can there be worse sickness, than to know that we are never well, nor can be so?
The distance from nothing to a little, is ten thousand times more, than from it to the highest degree in this life.
Without outward declarations, who can conclude an inward love?
Of all the commentaries on the Scriptures, good examples are the best.
He that desires to print a book, should much more desire, to be a book.
Yesternight the sun went hence, And yet is here today.
Old grandsires talk of yesterday with sorrow, And for our children we reserve tomorrow.
Lust-bred diseases rot thee.