I Know Well What I Am Fleeing

The Bees Pillage The Flowers Here And There But They Make Honey Of Them Which Is All Their Own; It Is No Longer Thyme Or Marjolaine: So The Pieces Borrowed From Others He Will Transform And Mix Up Into A Work All His Own.

There Is Nothing Of Evil In Life For Him Who Rightly Comprehends That Death Is No Evil; To Know How To Die Delivers Us From All Subjection And Constraint.

Even Opinion Is Of Force Enough To Make Itself To Be Espoused At The Expense Of Life.

I Neither Complain Of The Past, Nor Do I Fear The Future.

Fie On The Eloquence That Leaves Us Craving Itself, Not Things!