With What Shift And Pains

The Religion Of One Seems Madness Unto Another.

I Had Rather Stand The Shock Of A Basilisk Than The Fury Of A Merciless Pen.

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.

I Envy No Man That Knows More Than Myself, But Pity Them That Know Less.

Many-have Too Rashly Charged The Troops Of Error, And Remain As Trophies Unto The Enemies Of Truth.