How Much More Grievous Are

Be Content With What You Are, And Wish Not Change; Nor Dread Your Last Day, Nor Long For It.

...if A Man Comes To His Fortieth Year, And Has Any Understanding At All, He Has Virtually Seen - Thanks To Their Similarity - All Possible Happenings, Both Past And To Come.

The Universal Nature Has No External Space; But The Wondrous Part Of Her Art Is That Though She Has Circumscribed Herself, Everything Which Is Within Her Which Appears To Decay And To Grow Old And To Be Useless She Changes Into Herself, And Again Makes Other New Things From These Very Same, So That She Requires Neither Substance From Without Nor Wants A Place Into Which She May Cast That Which Decays. She Is Content Then With Her Own Space, And Her Own Matter, And Her Own Art.

He Who Fears Death Either Fears The Loss Of Sensation Or A Different Kind Of Sensation. But If Thou Shalt Have No Sensation, Neither Wilt Thou Feel Any Harm; And If Thou Shalt Acquire Another Kind Of Sensation, Thou Wilt Be A Different Kind Of Living Being And Thou Wilt Not Cease To Live.

What We Cannot Bear Removes Us From Life; What Remains Can Be Borne.