The Mortalist Enemy Unto Knowledge, And That

Life Itself Is But The Shadow Of Death, And Souls Departed But The Shadows Of The Living: All Things Fall Under This Name. The Sun Itself Is But The Dark Simulacrum, And The Light But The Shadow Of God.

I Cannot Tell By What Logic We Call A Toad, A Bear, Or An Elephant Ugly; They Being Created In Those Outward Shapes And Figures Which Best Express The Actions Of Their Inward Forms.

How Shall We Expect Charity Towards Others, When We Are Uncharitable To Ourselves?

I Can Cure The Gout Or Stone In Some, Sooner Than Divinity, Pride, Or Avarice In Others.

Be Thou What Thou Singly Art And Personate Only Thyself. Swim Smoothly In The Stream Of Thy Nature And Live But One Man.