He Who Lives Not To Others, Lives

The Lack Of Wealth Is Easily Repaired But The Poverty Of The Soul Is Irreplaceable.

We Have No Participation In Being, Because All Human Nature Is Ever Midway Between Being Born And Dying, Giving Off Only A Vague Image And Shadow Of Itself, And A Weak And Uncertain Opinion. And If You Chance To Fix Your Thoughts On Trying To Grasp Its Essence, It Would Be Neither More Nor Less Than If Your Tried To Clutch Water.

The Study Of Books Is A Drowsy And Feeble Exercise Which Does Not Warm You Up.

A Liar Would Be Brave Toward God, While He Is A Coward Toward Men; For A Lie Faces God, And Shrinks From Man.

There Is A Sort Of Gratification In Doing Good Which Makes Us Rejoice In Ourselves.