Whom Men Fear They Hate, And Whom

The Idle Mind Knows Not What It Wants.

Let No One Pay Me Honor With Tears, Nor Celebrate My Funeral Rites With Weeping.

He Hath Freedom Whoso Beareth A Clean And Constant Heart Within.

How Can Life Be Worth Living, If Devoid Of The Calm Trust Reposed By Friend In Friend? What Sweeter Joy Than In The Kindred Soul, Whose Converse Differs Not From Self-communion?

Let No One Honour Me With Tears, Or Bury Me With Lamentation. Why? Because I Fly Hither And Thither, Living In The Mouths Of Me. [lat., Nemo Me Lacrymis Decoret, Nec Funera Fletu. Faxit Cur? Volito Vivu' Per Ora Virum.]