As I Breathe, I Hope.

Hatred Is Inveterate Anger.

Can Any One Find In What Condition His Body Will Be, I Do Not Say A Year Hence, But This Evening?

We Are Born Poets. We Become Orators.

Be Sure That It Is Not You That Is Mortal, But Only Your Body. For That Man Whom Your Outward Form Reveals Is Not Yourself; The Spirit Is The True Self, Not That Physical Figure Which And Be Pointed Out By Your Finger.

In Nothing Do Men More Nearly Approach The Gods Than In Giving Health To Men.