History is the transformation of tumultuous conquerors into silent footnotes.
Jealousy would be far less torturous if we understood that love is a passion entirely unrelated to our merits.
If we were brought to trial for the crimes we have committed against ourselves, few would escape the gallows.
Man is ready to die for an idea, provided that idea is not quite clear to him.
Praises for our past triumphs are as feathers to a dead bird.
Reading the epitaphs, our only salvation lies in resurrecting the dead and burying the living.