“One that hath wine as a chain about his wits, such a one lives no life at all.”

Plant no tree sooner than the vine.

Tis said that wrath is the last thing in a man to grow old.

Wine is a peep-hole on a man.

Fighting men are the city’s fortress.

Not houses finely roofed or the stones of walls well builded, nay nor canals and dockyards make the city, but men able to use their opportunity.

Not well-built walls, but brave citizens are the bulwark of the city.

Brave men are a city’s strongest tower of defence.

To be bowed by grief is folly; Naught is gained by melancholy; Better than the pain of thinking, Is to steep the sense in drinking.

It only takes one clear person to have a good relationship.

For since it is impossible for a created monad to have a physical influence on the inner nature of another, this is the only way in which one can be dependent on another.

Reality cannot be found except in One single source, because of the interconnection of all things with one another.

Anyone who imagines that all fruits ripen at the same time as the strawberries knows nothing about grapes.

I also take it as granted that every created thing, and consequently the created monad also, is subject to change, and indeed that this change is continual in each one.

Photography is an art which touches and grips one’s own heart’s blood.

Anybody who perceives colors can become a painter. It’s simply a question of whether or not one has felt anything and whether one has the courage to recount the things one has felt.

Some colors reconcile themselves to one another, others just clash.