Half Our Days We Pass In The

To Call Ourselves A Microcosme, Or Little World, I Thought It Onely A Pleasant Trope Of Rhetorick, Till My Neare Judgement And Second Thoughts Told Me There Was A Reall Truth Therein: For First Wee Are A Rude Masse, And In The Ranke Of Creatures, Which Only Are, And Have A Dull Kinde Of Being Not Yet Priviledged With Life, Or Preferred To Sense Or Reason; Next We Live The Life Of Plants, The Life Of Animals, The Life Of Men, And At Last The Life Of Spirits, Running On In One Mysterious Nature Those Five Kinds Of Existence, Which Comprehend The Creatures Not Onely Of World, But Of The Universe.

Circles And Right Lines Limit And Close All Bodies, And The Mortal Right-lined Circle Must Conclude And Shut Up All.

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

They Do Most By Books, Who Could Do Much Without Them, And He That Chiefly Owes Himself Unto Himself, Is The Substantial Man.

Affection Should Not Be Too Sharp Eyed, And Love Is Not Made By Magnifying Glasses.