To Be Content With Death

There Is Another Man Within Me That's Angry With Me.

The Long Habit Of Living Indisposeth Us For Dying.

I Can Hardly Thinke There Was Any Scared Into Heaven; They Go The Surest Way To Heaven Who Would Serve God Without A Hell; Other Mercenaries, That Crouch Unto Him In Feare Of Hell, Though They Terme Themselves Servants, Are Indeed But The Slaves Of The Almighty.

For The World, I Count It Not An Inn, But A Hospital; And A Place Not To Live, But To Die In.

If There Be Any Among Those Common Objects Of Hatred I Do Contemn And Laugh At, It Is That Great Enemy Of Reason, Virtue, And Religion, The Multitude; That Numerous Piece Of Monstrosity, Which, Taken Asunder, Seem Men, And The Reasonable Creatures Of God, But, Confused Together, Make But One Great Beast, And A Monstrosity More Prodigious Than Hydra.