“All things around, convulsed with violent thunder, seem to tremble, and the mighty walls of the capacious world appear at once to have started and burst asunder.”

A falling drop at last will carve a stone.

It is pleasant, when the sea is high and the winds are dashing the waves about, to watch from the shores the struggles of another.

It is pleasant, when the sea runs high, to view from land the great distress of another.

So much wrong could religion induce.

The sum total of all sums total is eternal (meaning the universe).

Air, I should explain, becomes wind when it is agitated.

Truths kindle light for truths.

All life is a struggle in the dark.

We plainly perceive that the mind strengthens and decays with the body.

All nature, then, as self-sustained, consists Of twain of things: of bodies and of void In which they’re set, and where they’re moved around.

It’s easier to avoid the snares of love than to escape once you are in that net whose cords and knots are strong; but even so, enmeshed, entangled, you can still get out unless, poor fool, you stand in your own way.

Under what law each thing was created, and how necessary it is for it to continue under this, and how it cannot annul the strong rules that govern its lifetime.

Fear holds dominion over mortality Only because, seeing in land and sky So much the cause whereof no wise they know, Men think Divinities are working there.

There is so much wrong with the world.

What once sprung from the earth sinks back into the earth.

We notice that the mind grows with the body, and with it decays.

I imagine a soul is a little perfect crystal egg floating in your chest.

The hankering of the mind is irresistible.

The point is the love story. We live in a love story in the midst of war.

God’s address is at the end of your rope.

To bear lightly the neck’s yoke brings strength; but kicking against the goads is the way of failure.

I’m obsessed with the form of a toolbox.

Bed is a bundle of paradoxes: we go to it with reluctance, yet we quit it with regret.

For some the fairest thing on the dark earth is Thermopylae, And the Spartan phalanx lowering lances to die.