The Soul Becomes Dyed With The Color

Everything Is Ephemeral, Both That Which Remembers And That Which Is Remembered.

For Nowhere Either With More Quiet Or More Freedom From Trouble Does A Man Retire Than Into His Own Soul, Particularly When He Has Within Him Such Thoughts That By Looking Into Them He Is Immediately In Perfect Tranquility; And I Affirm That Tranquility Is Nothing Else Than The Good Ordering Of The Mind.

If Unwilling To Rise In The Morning, Say To Thyself, 'i Awake To Do The Work Of A Man.'

Think Of The Universal Substance, Of Which Thou Has A Very Small Portion; And Of Universal Time, Of Which A Short And Indivisible Interval Has Been Assigned To Thee; And Of That Which Is Fixed By Destiny, And How Small A Part Of It Thou Art

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