The poor wretches have convinced themselves that they are going to be immortal and live for all time, by worshipping that crucified sophist and living under his laws...they receive these doctrines by tradition, without any definite evidence. So if any charlatan or trickster comes among them, he quickly acquires wealth by imposing upon these simple people.

There is no happiness without tears, no life without death. Beware! I am going to make you cry.

The happy think a lifetime short, but to the unhappy one night can be an eternity.

Everybody dies. Some just need a little help.

The world is fleeting; all things pass away; Or is it we that pass and they that stay?

How gracious are the gods in bestowing high positions; and how reluctant are they to insure them when given.

The subject matter is autobiographical, it's all to do with hope and memory and sensuality and involvement, really.