My Art And Profession Is To Live.

Now, Since Everything Else Is Furnished With The Exact Amount Of Needle And Thread Required To Maintain Its Being, It Is In Truth Incredible That We Alone Should Be Brought Into The World In A Defective And Indigent State, In A State Such That We Cannot Maintain Ourselves Without External Aid.

The Worst Of My Actions Or Conditions Seem Not So Ugly Unto Me As I Find It Both Ugly And Base Not To Dare To Avouch For Them.

The Value Of Life Lies Not In The Length Of Days, But In The Use We Make Of Them... Whether You Find Satisfaction In Life Depends Not On Your Tale Of Years, But On Your Will.

I Would Like To Suggest That Our Minds Are Swamped By Too Much Study And By Too Much Matter Just As Plants Are Swamped By Too Much Water Or Lamps By Too Much Oil; That Our Minds, Held Fast And Encumbered By So Many Diverse Preoccupations, May Well Lose The Means Of Struggling Free, Remaining Bowed And Bent Under The Load; Except That It Is Quite Otherwise: The More Our Souls Are Filled, The More They Expand; Examples Drawn From Far-off Times Show, On The Contrary, That Great Soldiers Ad Statesmen Were Also Great Scholars.

The Strength Of Any Plan Depends On The Time. Circumstances And Things Eternally Shift And Change.