Where Books Are Burned In The End

Sleep Is Good, Death Is Better; But Of Course, The Best Thing Would To Have Never Been Born At All.

Nature, Like A True Poet, Abhors Abrupt Transitions.

If The Romans Had Been Obliged To Learn Latin, They Would Never Have Found Time To Conquer The World.

The Eyes Of Spring, So Azure, Are Peeping From The Ground; They Are The Darling Violets, That I In Nosegays Bound.

I Care Little In The Existence Of A Heaven Or Hell; Self Respect Does Not Allow Me To Guide My Acts With An Eye Toward Heavenly Salvation Or Hellish Punishment. I Pursue The Good In Life Because It Is Beautiful And Attracts Me; And Shun The Bad Because It Is Ugly And Repulsive. All Our Acts Should Originate From The Spring Of Unselfish Love, Whether There Be A Continuation After Death Or Not.