I had got this far, and was thinking of what to say next, and as my habit is, I was pricking the paper idly with my pen. And I thought how, between one dip of the pen and the next, time goes on, and I hurry, drive myself, and speed toward death. We are always dying. I while I write, you while you read, and others while they listen or stop their ears, they are all dying.

How fortune brings to earth the over-sure!

It is better to will the good than to know the truth.

Great errors seldom originate but with men of great minds.

I know and love the good, yet, ah! the worst pursue.

What name to call thee by, O virgin fair, I know not, for thy looks are not of earth And more than mortal seems thy countenances

While life is in your body, you have the rein of all thoughts in your hands.