You stars that reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell.

Fools that will laugh on earth, most weep in hell.

Why should you love him whom the world hates so? Because he love me more than all the world.

Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis?

All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.

Virtue is the fount whence honour springs.

I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.