It Is A Miserable State

Beauty Itself Is But The Sensible Image Of The Infinite.

Reading Maketh A Full Man; And Writing An Axact Man. And, Therefore, If A Man Write Little, He Need Have A Present Wit; And If He Read Little, He Need Have Much Cunning To Seem To Know Which He Doth Not.

If A Man's Wit Be Wandering, Let Him Study The Mathematics; For In Demonstrations, If His Wit Be Called Away Never So Little, He Must Begin Again.

It Is Not The Lie That Passeth Through The Mind, But The Lie That Sinketh In And Settleth In It, That Doth The Hurt.

Nature Is Often Hidden, Sometimes Overcome, Seldom Extinguished.