“It lies not in our power to love or hate, for will in us is overruled by fate.”

Who hateth me but for my happiness? Or who is honored now but for his wealth? Rather had I, a Jew, be hated thus, Than pitied in a Christian poverty.

Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov’d, that lov’d not at first sight?

That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.

There is no sin but ignorance.

All live to die, and rise to fall.

I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.

Our swords shall play the orators for us.

Love is not full of pity (as men say) But deaf and cruel, where he means to pray.

Excess of wealth is cause of covetousness.

Time doth run with calm and silent foot, Shortening my days and thread of vital life.

Lone women, like to empty houses, perish.

I’m armed with more than complete steel, – The justice of my quarrel.

Hell strives with grace for conquest in my breast. What shall I do to shun the snares of death?

Virginity, albeit some highly prize it, Compared with marriage, had you tried them both, Differs as much as wine and water doth.

If we say that we have no sin, We deceive ourselves, and there’s no truth in us. Why then belike we must sin, And so consequently die. Ay, we must die an everlasting death.

What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?

I saw that all beings are fated to happiness: action is not life, but a way of wasting some force, an enervation. Morality is the weakness of the brain.

Don’t put things off till it’s too late. You are the DJ of your fate.

Lucky he who has been educated to bear his fate, whatsoever it may be, by an early example of uprightness, and a childish training in honor.

Your faith rests on the future of yourself and others as individuals, mine in the future and fate of our successors.

Well, these sad and hopeless obstacles are welcome in one sense, for they enable us to look with indifference upon the cruel satires that Fate loves to indulge in.

Oh, Vanity of vanities! How wayward the decrees of Fate are; How very weak the very wise, How very small the very great are!

The aim, if reached or not, makes great the life: Try to be Shakespeare, leave the rest to fate!

Indifference to fate which, though it often makes a villain of a man, is the basis of his sublimity when it does not.