Yet is every man his own greatest enemy, and as it were his own executioner.
We all labour against our own cure, for death is the cure of all diseases.
I could be content that we might procreate like trees, without conjunction, or that there were any way to perpetuate the world without this trivial and vulgar way of coition.
A man may be in as just possession of truth as of a city, and yet be forced to surrender.
We term sleep a death ... by which we may be literally said to die daily; in fine, so like death, I dare not trust it without my prayers.
Obstinacy in a bad cause is but constancy in a good.
But the iniquity of oblivion blindly scattereth her poppy, and deals with the memory of men without distinction to merit of perpetuity.
Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave.