Yet if thou didst but know how little wit governs this mighty universe.

If things on earth may be to heaven resembled, It must be love, pure, constant, undissembled.

Faith, sir, we are here today, and gone tomorrow.

Love ceases to be a pleasure when it ceases to be a secret.

He that knew all that learning ever writ, Knew only this - that he knew nothing yet.

That perfect tranquillity of life, which is nowhere to be found but in retreat, a faithful friend and a good library.