Let no one weep for me, or celebrate my funeral with mourning; for I still live, as I pass to and fro through the mouths of men.
No one regards what is before his feet; we all gaze at the stars.
The victor is not victorious if the vanquished does not consider himself so.
How can life be worth living, if devoid Of the calm trust reposed by friend in friend? What sweeter joy than in the kindred soul, Whose converse differs not from self-communion?
He who civilly shows the way to one who has missed it, is as one who has lighted another’s lamp from his own lamp; it none the less gives light to himself when it burns for the other.