We Enter The World Alone, We Leave

Fling Away Your Soul Once For All, Your Own Small Self; If You Will Find It Again. Count Not Even On Immortality.

I Could Never Fear A God Who Kept A Hell Prison-house. No, Not Though He Flung Me There Because I Refused. There Is A Power Stronger Than Such A One; And It Is Possible To Walk Unscathed Even In The Burning Furnace.

To Deny The Freedom Of The Will Is To Make Morality Impossible.

Our Thoughts And Our Conduct Are Our Own.

Beautiful Is Old Age—beautiful As The Slow-dropping Mellow Autumn Of A Rich Glorious Summer. In The Old Man, Nature Has Fulfilled Her Work; She Loads Him With Blessings; She Fills Him With The Fruits Of A Well-spent Life; And, Surrounded By His Children And His Children's Children, She Rocks Him Softly Away To A Grave, To Which He Is Followed With Blessings. God Forbid We Should Not Call It Beautiful.