Think of the country mouse and of the town mouse, and of the alarm and trepidation of the town mouse.

The passing minute is every man's equal possession but what has once gone by is not ours.

Nature set a limit on sleep - as it did on eating and drinking. And youre over the limit. But not of working. There youre still below your quota. You dont love yourself enough. Or youd love your nature too and what it demands of you. People who love what they do wear themselves down doing it. They even forget to wash and eat.

Though you break your heart, men will go on as before.

He who lives in harmony with himself lives in harmony with the universe.

Suppose that men kill thee, cut thee in pieces, curse thee, what can these things do to prevent thy mind from remaining pure, wise, sober, just?

Perfection of character is this: to live each day as if it were your last, without frenzy, without apathy, without pretence.