The winds of gossip blow from the chests of people ventilating their opinions; so the soul is carried about and turned$$$ twisted and twisted back again.

They say that none of us exists$$$ except in the imagination of his fellows$$$ other than as an intangible$$$ invisible mentality.

My mother was already well aware of that$$$ and her plan was to commit to the waves the clay out of which I would later be shaped rather than the actual image itself.

I am everyone's friend. Except to my enemies.

For you have imposed order$$$ and so it is that the punishment of every disordered mind is its own disorder.

It's always good to remember where you come from and celebrate it. To remember where you come from is part of where you're going.

I am selfish$$$ private and easily bored. Will this be a problem?

They never will love where they ought to love$$$ who do not hate where they ought to hate.

Who else but me is ever going to read these letters?

People will not look forward to posterity who never look backward to their ancestors.