Innocence is like polished armour; it adorns, and it defends

[W]onder is from surprise; and surprise ceases upon experience.

For he that is a good man, is three quarters of his way towards the being a good Christian, wheresoever he lives, or whatsoever he is called.

An Aristotle was but the rubbish of an Adam, and Athens but the Rudiments of Paradise.

Anger [is], according to some, a transient hatred, or at least very like it.

Truth itself shall lose its credit, if delivered by a person that has none.

[H]e that despairs limits an infinite power to a finite apprehension, and measures Providence by his own little contracted model.