Of war men ask the outcome, not the cause.
Death is sometimes a punishment, often a gift; to many it has been a favor.
Look at the stars lighting up the sky: no one of them stays in the same place.
Retirement without literary amusements is death itself, and a living tomb.
As fate is inexorable, and not to be moved either with tears or reproaches, an excess of sorrow is as foolish as profuse laughter; while, on the other hand, not to mourn at all is insensibility.
Everyone rushes his life on, and suffers from a yearning for the future and a boredom with the present. But that man who devotes every hour to his own needs, who plans every day as if it were his last, neither longs for nor fears tomorrow.