Whoever rewards evil for good, evil will not depart from their house.

Whoever rewards evil for good, evil will not depart from their house.

Tears are sometimes an inappropriate response to death. When a life has been lived completely honestly, completely successfully, or just read more

Tears are sometimes an inappropriate response to death. When a life has been lived completely honestly, completely successfully, or just completely, the correct response to death's perfect punctuation mark is a smile.

If I'm going to Hell, I'm going there playing the piano.

If I'm going to Hell, I'm going there playing the piano.

In this world, man is a target of death, an easy prey to calamities, here every morsel and every draught read more

In this world, man is a target of death, an easy prey to calamities, here every morsel and every draught is liable to choke one, here one never receives a favour until he loses another instead, here every additional day in one's life is a day reduced from the total span of his existence, when death is the natural outcome of life, how can we expect immortality?

The gods conceal from men the happiness of death, that they may endure life.

The gods conceal from men the happiness of death, that they may endure life.

When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, read more

When two people are under the influence of the most violent, most insane, most delusive, and most transient of passions, they are required to swear that they will remain in that excited, abnormal, and exhausting condition continuously until death do them part.

For what is it to die, But to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?

For what is it to die, But to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?

Love isn't who you can see yourself with, it's who you can't see yourself without.

Love isn't who you can see yourself with, it's who you can't see yourself without.

Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the read more

Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.