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Vice Leaves Repentance In The Soul, Like An Ulcer In The Flesh, Which Is Always Scratching And Lacerating Itself; For Reason Effaces All Other Griefs And Sorrows, But It Begets That Of Repentance.

Every One Rushes Elsewhere And Into The Future, Because No One Wants To Face One's Own Inner Self.

Everyone Calls Barbarity What He Is Not Accustomed To.

We Must Learn To Suffer What We Cannot Evade; Our Life, Like The Harmony Of The World, Is Composed Of Contrary Things, And One Part Is No Less Necessary Than The Other.

It Is For Little Souls, That Truckle Under The Weight Of Affairs, Not To Know How Clearly To Disengage Themselves, And Not To Know How To Lay Them Aside And Take Them Up Again.