Where life is more terrible than death, it is then the truest valor to dare to live.

Life is itself but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living. All things fall under this name. The sun itself is but the dark simulacrum, and light but the shadow of God.

Certainly there is no happiness within this circle of flesh, nor is it in the optics of these eyes to behold felicity; the first day of our Jubilee is death

Thus we are men and we know not how: there is something in us that can be without us, and will be after us.

There is music in the beauty, and the silent note that cupid strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument; for there is music wherever there is harmony, order, or proportion; and thus far we maintain the music of the spheres.

Life itself is but the shadow of death, and souls departed but the shadows of the living.