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“He who fears death either fears to lose all sensation or fears new sensations. In reality, you will either feel nothing at all, and therefore nothing evil, or else, if you can feel any sensations, you will be a new creature, and so will not have ceased to have life.”
Book VIII • Marcus Aurelius“What is love? For the rabble love is a kind of variety, a transient vulgarity; the rabble's conception of love is best found in their obscene ditties, in prostitution and in the foul idioms they use when they are halfway sober, such as "shoving the donkey's foreleg in mud," or "putting dust on the head." My love for her, however, was of a totally different kind. I knew her from ancient times—strange slanted eyes, a narrow, half-open mouth, a subdued quiet voice. She was the embodiment of all my distant, painful memories among which I sought what I was deprived of, what belonged to me but somehow I was denied. Was I deprived forever?”
The Blind Owl • Sadegh Hedayat“If anger is not restrained, it is frequently more hurtful to us than the injury that provokes it.”
Day's Collacon • Lucius Annaeus Seneca“When I am abroad I always make it a rule never to criticize or attack the Government of my country. I make up for lost time when I am at home.”
Never Give In! • Winston S Churchill“I wonder how many people I've looked at all my life and never seen.”
The Winter of Our Discontent • John Steinbeck