The universal nature out of the universal substance, as if it were wax, now molds a horse, and when it has broken this up, it uses the material for a tree, then for a man, then for something else.
And yet, after all, what is posthumous fame? Altogether vanity.
Man is born for deeds of kindness.
It is man's peculiar duty to love even those who wrong him.
Everything is ephemeral, both that which remembers and that which is remembered.
I consist of a little body and a soul.