ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
Almanacs
Being dead they were then by one day happier than he
Books I read over again, still smile upon me with fresh novelty
Death discharges us of all our obligations
Difference betwixt memory and understanding
Do thine own work, and know thyself
Effect and performance are not at all in our power
Fantastic gibberish of the prophetic canting
Folly of gaping after future things
Good to be certain and finite, and evil, infinite and uncertain
He who lives everywhere, lives nowhere
If they chop upon one truth, that carries a mighty report
Impotencies that so unseasonably surprise the lover
Let it be permitted to the timid to hope
Light griefs can speak: deep sorrows are dumb
Look, you who think the gods have no care of human things
Nature of judgment to have it more deliberate and more slow
Nature of wit is to have its operation prompt and sudden
Nor have other tie upon one another, but by our word
Old men who retain the memory of things past
Pity is reputed a vice amongst the Stoics
Rather complain of ill-fortune than be ashamed of victory
Reverse of truth has a hundred thousand forms
Say of some compositions that they stink of oil and of the lamp
Solon, that none can be said to be happy until he is dead
Strong memory is commonly coupled with infirm judgment
Stumble upon a truth amongst an infinite number of lies
Suffer those inconveniences which are not possibly to be avoided
Superstitiously to seek out in the stars the ancient causes
Their pictures are not here who were cast away
Things I say are better than those I write
We are masters of nothing but the will
We cannot be bound beyond what we are able to perform
Where the lion's skin is too short