The generation of mankind is like the generation of leaves. The wind scatters the leaves on the ground, but the living tree burgeons with leaves again in the spring.

some things you will think of yourself,...some things God will put into your mind

The journey is the thing.

Nothing in the world is so incontinent as a man's accursed appetite.

We got a little rule back home: If it's brown, drink it down. If it's black, send it back.

Heaven hears and pities hapless men like me, For sacred ev'n to gods is misery.

Sweet sleep fell upon his eyelids, unwakeful, most pleasant, the nearest like death.