I enter into confidence with dying I ever justly feared to raise my head too high I every day hear fools say things that are not foolish I find myself here fettered by the laws of ceremony I find no quality so easy to counterfeit as devotion I for my part always went the plain way to work I grudge nothing but care and trouble I had much rather die than live upon charity I had rather be old a brief time, than be old before old age I hail and caress truth in what quarter soever I find it I hate all sorts of tyranny, both in word and deed I hate poverty equally with pain I have a great aversion from a novelty "I have done nothing to-day"--"What? have you not lived?" I have lived longer by this one day than I should have done I have no mind to die, but I have no objection to be dead I have not a wit supple enough to evade a sudden question I have nothing of my own that satisfies my judgment I honour those most to whom I show the least honour I lay no great stress upon my opinions; or of others I look upon death carelessly when I look upon it universally I love stout expressions amongst gentle men I love temperate and moderate natures I need not seek a fool from afar; I can laugh at myself I owe it rather to my fortune than my reason I receive but little advice, I also give but little I scorn to mend myself by halves I see no people so soon sick as those who take physic I speak truth, not so much as I would, but as much as I dare I take hold of, as little glorious and exemplary as you will I understand my men even by their silence and smiles I was always superstitiously afraid of giving offence I was too frightened to be ill "I wish you good health"--"No health to thee" replied the other I would as willingly be lucky as wise I would be rich of myself, and not by borrowing I write my book for few men and for few years Idleness is to me a very painful labour Idleness, the mother of corruption If a passion once prepossess and seize me, it carries me away If I am talking my best, whoever interrupts me, stops me If I stand in need of anger and inflammation, I borrow it If it be a delicious medicine, take it If it be the writer's wit or borrowed from some other If nature do not help a little, it is very hard If they can only be kind to us out of pity If they chop upon one truth, that carries a mighty report If they hear no noise, they think men sleep If to philosophise be, as 'tis defined, to doubt Ignorance does not offend me, but the foppery of it Impotencies that so unseasonably surprise the lover Ill luck is good for something Imagine the mighty will not abase themselves so much as to live Imitating other men's natures, thou layest aside thy own Immoderate either seeking or evading glory or reputation Impose them upon me as infallible Impostures: very strangeness lends them credit Improperly we call this voluntary dissolution, despair Impunity pass with us for justice In everything else a man may keep some decorum