It is your own assent to yourself, and the constant voice of your own reason, and not of others, that should make you believe.

How vain painting is-we admire the realistic depiction of objects which in their original state we don't admire at all.

Distraction is the only thing that consoles us for our miseries. Yet it is itself the greatest of our miseries.

We sail within a vast sphere, ever drifting in uncertainty, driven from end to end.

The charm of fame is so great that we like every object to which it is attached, even death.

What reason have atheists for saying that we cannot rise again? That what has never been, should be, or that what has been, should be again? Is it more difficult to come into being than to return to it.

There are only three types of people; those who have found God and serve him; those who have not found God and seek him, and those who live not seeking, or finding him. The first are rational and happy; the second unhappy and rational, and the third foolish and unhappy.