I Search After Truth, By Which Man

The Soul Is Dyed By The Thoughts. Dye It Then, With A Continuous Series Of Such Thoughts As These - That Where A Man Can Live, There - If He Will - He Can Also Live Well.

Our Life Is What Our Thoughts Make It.

Death Hangs Over Thee, While Thou Still Live, While Thou May, Do Good.

Dress Not Thy Thoughts In Too Fine A Raiment. And Be Not A Man Of Superfluous Words Or Superfluous Deeds.

Remember That Neither The Future Nor The Past Pains Thee, But Only The Present. But This Is Reduced To A Very Little, If Thou Only Circumscribest It, And Chidest Thy Mind, If It Is Unable To Hold Out Against Even This.