Everybody dies. Some just need a little help.

For history, I say again, has this and this only for its own: if a man will start upon it, he must sacrifice to no God but Truth he must neglect all else his sole rule and unerring guide is this - to think not of those who are listening to him now, but of the yet unborn who shall seek his converse.

Wise is the person at either end. Who can in due measure spare as well as spend.

Death is a mercy, and I have enough mercy to go around.

The only business of the historian is to relate things exactly as they are: this he can never do as long as he is afraid

The wealth of the soul is the only true wealth.

It is not lawful or proper for you to know everything.

Not every story has a happy ending, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth telling.

Poverty persuades a man to do and suffer everything that he may escape from it.

The truth is hidden from us. Even if a mere piece of luck brings us straight to it, we shall have no grounded conviction of our success there are so many similar objects, all claiming to be the real thing.

Dancing is as old as love.

Now that I know what I want, I don't have to hold on to it quite so much.

There is no happiness without tears, no life without death. Beware! I am going to make you cry.

Be grateful. By slaying you now, I spare you an eternity of torment.

I was still more concerned (a preference which you may be far from resenting) to strike a blow for Epicurus, that great man whose holiness and divinity of nature were not shams, who alone had and imparted true insight into the good, and who brought deliverance to all that consorted with him.