No One Can Keep You

A Spider Is Proud When It Has Caught A Fly; One Man When He Has Caught A Poor Hare, And Another When He Has Taken A Little Fish In A Net, And Another When He Has Taken Wild Boars, And Another When He Has Taken Bears, And Another When He Has Taken Sarmatians. Are Not These Robbers, If You Examine Their Opinions?

There Is No Man So Fortunate That There Shall Not Be By Him When He Is Dying Some Who Are Pleased With What Is Going To Happen.

How Easy It Is To Repel And Release Every Impression Which Is Troublesome And Immediately To Be Tranquil.

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.

Why Should We Feel Anger At The World? As If The World Would Notice?