They who have light in themselves will not revolve as satellites.
Drunkenness is nothing but voluntary madness.
...nothing is so entirely admirable as a man bravely wretched.
This life is only a prelude to eternity.
It's the great soul that surrenders itself to fate, but a puny degenerate thing that struggles.
Nothing becomes so offensive so quickly as grief. When fresh it finds someone to console it, but when it becomes chronic, it is ridiculed and rightly.