Look To The Essence Of A Thing,

Death Hangs Over Thee, While Thou Still Live, While Thou May, Do Good.

I Have Often Wondered How It Is That Every Man Loves Himself More Than All The Rest Of Men, But Yet Sets Less Value On His Own Opinions Of Himself Than On The Opinions Of Others.

Doth Perfect Beauty Stand In Need Of Praise At All? Nay; No More Than Law, No More Than Truth, No More Than Loving Kindness, Nor Than Modesty.

Nature Which Governs The Whole Will Soon Change All Things Which You See, And Out Of Their Substance Will Make Other Things And Again Other Things... In Order That The World May Be Ever New.

Perhaps There Are None More Lazy, Or More Truly Ignorant, Than Your Everlasting Readers.