Doth Perfect Beauty Stand In Need Of

In The Life Of A Man, His Time Is But A Moment, His Being An Incessant Flux, His Sense A Dim Rushlight, His Body A Prey Of Worms, His Soul An Unquiet Eddy, His Fortune Dark, His Fame Doubtful. In Short, All That Is Body Is As Coursing Waters, All That Is Of The Soul As Dreams And Vapors.

Give Yourself A Gift: The Present Moment.

All Men Are Made One For Another: Either Then Teach Them Better Or Bear With Them.

Everything - A Horse, A Vine - Is Created For Some Duty... For What Task, Then, Were You Yourself Created?

Always Run To The Short Way; And The Short Way Is The Natural: Accordingly Say And Do Everything In Conformity With The Soundest Reason. For Such A Purpose Frees A Man From Trouble, And Warfare, And All Artifice And Ostentatious Display.