The lot assigned to every man is suited to him, and suits him to itself.

Each of us lives only now, this brief instant. The rest been lived already, or is impossible to see. The span we live is small - small as the corner of the earth in which we live it.

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

Leave other people's mistakes where they lie.

Everything is interwoven, and the web is holy.

Alexander the Great and his mule driver both died and the same thing happened to both.

A person's life is what their thoughts make it.