All The Sciences Are, In Some Measure,

No Vernal Blooms Their Torpid Rocks Array, But Winter Lingering Chills The Lap Of May; No Zephyr Fondly Sues The Mountain's Breast, But Meteors Glare, And Stormy Glooms Invest.

If We Do Not Find Happiness In The Present Moment, In What Shall We Find It?

The World Is Like A Vast Sea: Mankind Like A Vessel Sailing On Its Tempestuous Bosom. ... [t]he Sciences Serve Us For Oars.

One Should Not Quarrel With A Dog Without A Reason Sufficient To Vindicate One Through All The Courts Of Morality.

Age, That Lessens The Enjoyment Of Life, Increases Our Desire Of Living