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Festination may prove Precipitation; Deliberating delay may be wise cunctation.

The heart of man is the place the devil dwells in; I feel sometimes a hell dwells within myself.

There is nothing strictly immortal, but immortality. Whatever hath no beginning may be confident of no end.

Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes and pompous in the grave.

Gold once out of the earth is no more due unto it; what was unreasonably committed to the ground, is reasonably resumed from it; let monuments and rich fabricks, not riches, adorn men's ashes.

To extend our memories by monuments, whose death we daily pray for, and whose duration we cannot hope, without injury to our expectations in the advent of the last day, were a contradiction to our belief.

And sure there is music even in the beauty, and the silent note which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument; for there is music wherever there is harmony, order, or proportion; and thus far we may maintain the music of the spheres.

Rich with the spoils of nature.

There are no grotesques in nature; not anything framed to fill up empty cantons, and unnecessary spaces.

Now nature is not at variance with art, nor art with nature; they being both the servants of his providence. Art is the perfection of nature. Were the world now as it was the sixth day, there were yet a chaos. Nature hath made one world, and art another. In brief, all things are artificial; for nature is the art of God.

All things are artificial, for nature is the art of God.

There are mystically in our faces certain characters which carry in them the motto of our souls, wherin he that cannot read A, B, C may read our natures.

Persecution is a bad and indirect way to plant religion.

Women do most delight in revenge.

When we desire to confine our words, we commonly say they are spoken under the rose. - Sir Thomas Browne,

Est rosa flos Veneris cujus quo furta laterent.

Since the Brother of Death daily haunts us with dying mementoes.

Sleep is a death, O make me try, By sleeping, what it is to die: And as gently lay my head On my grave, as now my bed.

Think not thy time short in this world, since the world itself is not long. The created world is but a small parenthesis in eternity, and a short interposition, for a time, between such a state of duration as was before it and may be after it.

A wise man is out of the reach of fortune.