Death, Like Birth, Is A Secret Of

A Person's Life Is Dyed With The Color Of His Imagination.

It Is A Shame For The Soul To Be First To Give Way In This Life, When Thy Body Does Not Give Way.

Things Themselves Cannot Touch The Soul, Not In The Least Degree, Nor Have They Admission To The Soul Nor Can They Turn Or Move The Soul: It Turns And Moves Itself Alone And Whatever Judgment It May Think Proper To Make, Such It Makes By Remaking For Itself The Things That Present Themselves To It

It Is A Ridiculous Thing For A Man Not To Fly From His Own Badness, Which Is Indeed Possible, But To Fly From Other Men's Badness, Which Is Impossible.

It Is Satisfaction To A Man To Do The Proper Works Of A Man.