Life Is A Warfare And A Stranger's

The Lot Assigned To Every Man Is Suited To Him, And Suits Him To Itself.

Short-lived Are Both The Praiser And The Praised, And Rememberer And The Remembered: And All This In A Nook Of This Part Of The World; And Not Even Here Do All Agree, No, Not Any One With Himself: And The Whole Earth Too Is A Point.

Everything That Happens Happens As It Should, And If You Observe Carefully, You Will Find This To Be So.

Men Seek Out Retreats For Themselves In The Country, By The Seaside, On The Moutains . . . But All This Is Unphilosophical To The Last Degree . . . When Thou Canst At A Moment's Notice Retire Into Thyself.

The Mind Which Is Free From Passions Is A Citadel, For Man Has Nothing More Secure To Which He Can Fly For Refuge And For The Future Be Inexpugnable . He Then Who Has Not Seen This Is An Ignorant Man: But He Who Has Seen It And Does Not Fly To This Refuge Is Unhappy.