“A sense of art mixes with our modern piety. We are apt to admire the evangelical reticence for its dignity,[…] we are apt to respect the Scripture narratives with their few intense details, their close events and their great omissions alike, for their simplicity, and—it is to be feared that our literature leads us so far—for their "effect."”

Book 1, p. 11
Cosmotheoros (1695; publ. 1698)

Claimed by atheist Franklin Steiner, on p. 144 of one of his books to have appeared in Manford's Magazine but he never gives a year of publication.
Misattributed

The Syntax of Sorcery (2012)
Context: Certain individual words do possess more pitch, more radiance, more shazam! than others, but it's the way words are juxtaposed with other words in a phrase or sentence that can create magic. Perhaps literally. The word "grammar," like its sister word "glamour," is actually derived from an old Scottish word that meant "sorcery." When we were made to diagram sentences in high school, we were unwittingly being instructed in syntax sorcery, in wizardry. We were all enrolled at Hogwarts. Who knew?
When a culture is being dumbed down as effectively as ours is, its narrative arts (literature, film, theatre) seem to vacillate between the brutal and the bland, sometimes in the same work. The pervasive brutality in current fiction – the death, disease, dysfunction, depression, dismemberment, drug addiction, dementia, and dreary little dramas of domestic discord – is an obvious example of how language in exploitative, cynical or simply neurotic hands can add to the weariness, the darkness in the world. Less apparent is that bland writing — timid, antiseptic, vanilla writing – is nearly as unhealthy as the brutal and dark. Instead of sipping, say, elixir, nectar, tequila, or champagne, the reader is invited to slurp lumpy milk or choke on the author's dust bunnies.

Middlemarch (1871)

Section 10 : Of Miracles Pt. 1
An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (1748)

The Prophecy of Famine: A Scots Pastoral (1763), line 86

Source: De architectura (The Ten Books On Architecture) (~ 15BC), Book II, Chapter IX, Sec. 12
Context: The hornbeam... is not a wood that breaks easily and is very convenient to handle. Hence the Greeks call it "zygia," because they make of it yokes for their draught animals... Cypress and pine are also just as admirable; for although they... are apt to warp when used in buildings... they can be kept to a great age without rotting because the liquid contained within their substances has a bitter taste which by its pungency prevents the entrance of decay or of those little creatures which are destructive. Hence buildings made of these kinds of wood last for an unending period of time.

Source: 1910s, An Introduction to Mathematics (1911), ch. 1.