“Live and die in Aristotle’s works.”

While money doesn’t buy love, it puts you in a great bargaining position.

Accurst be he that first invented war.

What feeds me destroys me.

Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?

Had I as many souls as there be stars, I’d give them all for Mephistopheles!

Who hateth me but for my happiness? Or who is honored now but for his wealth? Rather had I, a Jew, be hated thus, Than pitied in a Christian poverty.

Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov’d, that lov’d not at first sight?

That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.

There is no sin but ignorance.

All live to die, and rise to fall.

I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.

Our swords shall play the orators for us.

Love is not full of pity (as men say) But deaf and cruel, where he means to pray.

Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness.

Time doth run with calm and silent foot, Shortening my days and thread of vital life.

Lone women, like to empty houses, perish.

I’ve just read that I am dead. Don’t forget to delete me from your list of subscribers.

Our Saviour would love at no less rate than death; and from the supereminent height of glory, stooped and debased Himself to the sufferance of the extremest of indignities, and sunk himself to the bottom of abjectness, to exalt our condition to the contrary extreme.

By logic and reason we die hourly; by imagination we live.

As the sun is best seen at his rising and setting, so men’s native dispositions are clearest seen when they are children, and when they are dying.

These sharp edges you left behind, they cut so deep; and I guess maybe I am just not dying enough.

Nothing is born, nothing dies.

And what is so intricate, so entangling as death? Who ever got out of a winding sheet?

It was as though our love were a small creature caught in a trap and bleeding to death: I had to shut my eyes and wring its neck.