Our life is what our thoughts make it.

Thou art a little soul bearing about a corpse.

The constant recollection of death is the test of human conduct.

Everything is here for a purpose, from horses to vine shoots. What's surprising about that? Even the sun will tell you, "I have a purpose," and the other goods as well.

You don't have to turn this into something. It doesn't have to upset you. Things can't shape our decisions by themselves.

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.

A wrongdoer is often a man who has left something undone, not always one who has done something.