There Is No Man So

This Is Moral Perfection: To Live Each Day As Though It Were The Last; To Be Tranquil, Sincere, Yet Not Indifferent To One's Fate.

Death Is A Release From The Impressions Of The Senses, And From Desires That Make Us Their Puppets, And From The Vagaries Of The Mind, And From The Hard Service Of The Flesh.

Nothing Befalls Any Man Which He Is Not Fitted To Endure.

How Ridiculous And How Strange To Be Surprised At Anything Which Happens In Life

Frequently Consider The Connection Of All Things In The Universe.