Thomas Fuller (preacher) (1608 – 1661)
English preacher, historian, and scholar.
One that will not plead that cause wherein his tongue must be confuted by his conscience.
He knows little who will tell his wife all he knows.
Heat of passion makes our souls to chap, and the devil creeps in at the crannies.
Though blood be the best sauce for victory, yet must it not be more than the meat.
Some men, like a tiled house, are long before they take fire, but once on flame there is no coming near to quench them.
Many favors which God giveth us ravel out for want of hemming, through our own unthankfulness; for though prayer purchaseth blessings, giving praise doth keep the quiet possession of them.
Anger is one of the sinews of the soul; he that wants it hath a maimed mind.
It is always darkest just before the day dawneth.
Fame sometimes hath created something of nothing.
Miracles are the swaddling-clothes of infant churches.
The lion is not so fierce as painted.
By the same proportion that a penny saved is a penny gained, the preserver of books is a Mate for the Compiler of them.
Light, God's eldest daughter, is a principal beauty in a building.
They that marry ancient people, merely in expectation to bury them, hang themselves in hope that one will come and cut the halter.
There is a great difference between painting a face and not washing it.
Learning hath gained most by those books by which the printers have lost.
To smell to a turf of fresh earth is wholesome for the body; no less are thoughts of mortality cordial to the soul.
But our captain counts the image of God—nevertheless his image—cut in ebony as if done in ivory, and in the blackest Moors he sees the representation of the King of Heaven.
Deceive not thyself by overexpecting happiness in the married estate. Remember the nightingales which sing only some months in the spring, but commonly are silent when they have hatched their eggs.
The Pyramids themselves, doting with age, have forgotten the names of their founders.