There Is Another Man Within

The Discourses Of The Table Among True Loving Friends Are Held In Strict Silence.

Nature Proceeds Little By Little From Things Lifeless To Animal Life In Such A Way That It Is Impossible To Determine The Exact Line Ure Hath Made One World, And Art Another. In Brief, All Things Are Artificial; For Nature Is The Art Of God.

Content May Dwell In All Stations. To Be Low But Above Contempt May Be High Enough To Be Happy.

That Miracles Have Been, I Do Believe; That They May Yet Be Wrought By The Living, I Do Not Deny: But Have No Confidence In Those Which Are Fathered On The Dead.

But Man Is A Noble Animal, Splendid In Ashes, And Pompous In The Grave, Solemnizing Nativities And Deaths With Equal Lustre, Nor Omitting Ceremonies Of Bravery, In The Infamy Of His Nature. Life Is A Pure Flame, And We Live By An Invisible Sun Within Us.