Every instant of time... is a pinprick of eternity.

There is a limit circumscribed to your time – if you do not use it to clear away your clouds, it will be gone, and you will be gone, and the opportunity will not return

Men seek out retreats for themselves in the country, by the seaside, on the moutains . . . But all this is unphilosophical to the last degree . . . when thou canst at a moment's notice retire into thyself.

Be not careless in deeds, nor confused in words, nor rambling in thought.

Understand however that every man is worth just so much as the things are worth about which he busies himself.

In the life of a man, his time is but a moment, his being an incessant flux, his sense a dim rushlight, his body a prey of worms, his soul an unquiet eddy, his fortune dark, his fame doubtful. In short, all that is body is as coursing waters, all that is of the soul as dreams and vapors.

At day's first light have in readiness, against disinclination to leave your bed, the thought that "I am rising for the work of man."