Without A Purpose, Nothing Should Be Done.

The Universal Nature Has No External Space; But The Wondrous Part Of Her Art Is That Though She Has Circumscribed Herself, Everything Which Is Within Her Which Appears To Decay And To Grow Old And To Be Useless She Changes Into Herself, And Again Makes Other New Things From These Very Same, So That She Requires Neither Substance From Without Nor Wants A Place Into Which She May Cast That Which Decays. She Is Content Then With Her Own Space, And Her Own Matter, And Her Own Art.

Nature Has Given To Each Conscious Being Every Power She Possesses, And One Of These Abilities Is This: Just As Nature Converts And Alters Every Obstacle And Opposition, And Fits Them Into Their Predestined Place, Making Them A Part Of Herself, So Too The Rational Person Is Able To Finesse Every Obstacle Into An Opportunity, And To Use It For Whatever Purpose It May Suit.

Today I Escaped All Circumstance, Or Rather I Cast Out All Circumstance, For It Was Not Outside Me, But Within My Judgements.

Where Life Is Possible At All, A Right Life Is Possible; Life In A Palace Is Possible; Therefore Even In A Palace A Right Life Is Possible.

When You Find An Unwillingness To Rise Early In The Morning, Make This Short Speech To Yourself: I Am Getting Up Now To Do The Business Of A Man; And Am I Out Of Humour For Going About That I Was Made For, And For The Sake Of Which I Was Sent Into The World? Was I Then Designed For Nothing But To Doze And Keep Warm Beneath The Counterpane? Well! But This Is A Comfortable Way Of Living.