Life is the desert, life the solitude, death joins us to the great majority.
Revere thyself, and yet thyself despise
Each moment has its sickle, emulous Of Time's enormous scythe, whose ample sweep Strikes empires from the root.
The man that makes a character, makes foes.
Be wise to-day; 't is madness to defer.
We are all born originals - why is it so many of us die copies?