Isaac BarrowThinkers

Mathematics is the unshaken foundation of science, and the plentiful fountain of advantage to human affairs.

Poetry is a kind of ingenious nonsense.

Virtue is not a mushroom, that springeth up of itself in one night when we are asleep, but a delicate plant, that groweth slowly and tenderly, needing much pains to cultivate it, much care to guard it, much time to mature it, in our untoward soil, in this world's unkindly weather.