The Reward Of Suffering Is Experience

Pain Lays Not Its Touch Upon A Corpse.

And Now It Goes As It Goes And Where It Ends Is Fate. And Neither By Singeing Flesh Nor Tipping Cups Of Wine Nor Shedding Burning Tears Can You Enchant Away The Rigid Fury.

They Who Prosper Take On Airs Of Vanity.

We Spoil Ourselves With Scruples Long As Things Go Well.

This Is A Sickness Rooted And Inherent In The Nature Of A Tyranny: That He That Holds It Does Not Trust His Friends.