Author: Sir Thomas Browne
Cited by
- Armistead Maupin (1)
- IN: Further Tales of the City (1982) Fiction, American
EPIGRAPH: Surely there are in everyone's life certain connections, twists and turns which pass awhile under the category of Chance, but at the last, well eamined, prove to be the very Hand of God.
FROM: Religio Medici, (1643), Book, UK
- Robert Silverberg (2)
- IN: To Live Again and The Second Trip (2013) Fiction, Science Fiction, American
EPIGRAPH: There is therefore but one comfort left, that though it be in the power of the weakest arm to take away life, it is not in the strongest to deprive us of death: God would not exempt himself from that; the misery of immortality in the flesh he undertook not, that was in it immortal.
FROM: Religio Medici, (1642), Book, UK
- IN: To Live Again (1969) Fiction, American
EPIGRAPH: There is therefore but one comfort left, that though it be in the power of the weakest arm to take away life, it is not in the strongest to deprive us of death: God would not exempt himself from that; the misery of immortality in the flesh he undertook not, that was in it immortal.
FROM: Religio Medici, (1642), Book, UK
- Robert Wilson (2)
- IN: Julian Comstock: A Story of 22-nd Century America (2009) Fiction, American
EPIGRAPH: Look not for roses in Attalus his garden, or wholesome flowers in a venomous plantation. And since there is scarce any one bad, but some others are the worse for him, tempt not contagion by proximity, and hazard not thyself in the shadow of corruption.
FROM: NULL, (None), Book, UK
- IN: Julian Comstock: A Story of 22nd-Century America (2009) Fiction, British
EPIGRAPH: Look not for roses in Attalus his garden, or wholesome flowers in a venomous plantation. And since there is scarce any one bad, but some others are the worse for him, tempt not contagion by proximity, and hazard not thyself in the shadow of corruption.
FROM: Christian Morals, (1716), Book, UK
- Kevin Powers (1)
- IN: The Yellow Birds (2012) Fiction, American
EPIGRAPH: To be ignorant of evils to come, and forgetfull of evils past, is a merciful provision in nature, whereby we digest the mixture of our few and evil dayes, and our delivered senses not relapsing into cutting remembrances, our sorrows are not kept raw by the edge of repetitions.
FROM: Urn Burial, (1658), Book, UK