Rest, brother, rest. Have you done ill or well Rest, rest, There is no God, no gods who dwell Crowned with avenging righteousness on high Nor frowning ministers of their hate in hell.

From the heart of the fountain of delight rises a jet of bitterness that tortures us among the very flowers.

The body searches for that which has injured the mind with love.

The mind like a sick body can be healed and changed by medicine.

The water hollows out the stone, not by force but drop by drop.

Pleasant it is, when over a great sea the winds trouble the waters, to gaze from shore upon another's great tribulation: not because any man's troubles are a delectable joy, but because to perceive from what ills you are free yourself is pleasant.

Those things that are in the light we behold from darkness.