Habit Is Second Nature.

We Have No Participation In Being, Because All Human Nature Is Ever Midway Between Being Born And Dying, Giving Off Only A Vague Image And Shadow Of Itself, And A Weak And Uncertain Opinion. And If You Chance To Fix Your Thoughts On Trying To Grasp Its Essence, It Would Be Neither More Nor Less Than If Your Tried To Clutch Water.

He That First Likened Glory To A Shadow Did Better Than He Was Aware Of. They Are Both Of Them Things Excellently Vain. Glory Also, Like A Shadow, Goes Sometimes Before The Body, And Sometimes In Length Infinitely Exceeds It.

All We Do Is To Look After The Opinions And Learning Of Others: We Ought To Make Them Our Own.

If You Want It To Be So, History Can Be A Waste Of Time; It Can Also Be, If You Want It To Be So, A Study Bearing Fruit Beyond Price.

What Of A Truth That Is Bounded By These Mountains And Is Falsehood To The World That Lives Beyond?