Nature has a language of its own, or maybe those who have lived long in solitude read in it their own unconscious inner feelings and mysterious foreknowledge.

Nature has a language of its own, or maybe those who have lived long in solitude read in it their own unconscious inner feelings and mysterious foreknowledge.

As a stoic I must despise injury or, rather, I must not feel it, must not be affected by it so that it cannot violate the freedom of my soul.

One must be very strong, or very stupid, or completely exhausted to face life with indifference.

All things are aggregations of atoms that dance & by their movement produce sound. When the rhythm of the dance changes, the sound it produces also changes... Each atom perpetually sings its song, and the sound at every moment creates dense subtle forms.

Neglecting small things under the pretext of wanting to accomplish large ones is the excuse of a coward.

Who knows the flower best? - the one who reads about it in a book, or the one who finds it wild on the mountainside?