If Someone Can Prove Me Wrong And

Things Themselves Cannot Touch The Soul, Not In The Least Degree, Nor Have They Admission To The Soul Nor Can They Turn Or Move The Soul: It Turns And Moves Itself Alone And Whatever Judgment It May Think Proper To Make, Such It Makes By Remaking For Itself The Things That Present Themselves To It

Rememberest The Gods, And That They Wish Not To Be Flattered, But Wish All Reasonable Beings To Be Made Like Themselves; And... Rememberest That What Does The Work Of A Fig-tree Is A Fig-tree, And That What Does The Work Of A Dog Is A Dog, And That What Does The Work Of A Bee Is A Bee, And That What Does The Work Of A Man Is A Man.

Not To Waste Time On Nonsense. Not To Be Taken In By Conjurors And Hoodoo Artists With Their Talk About Incantations And Exorcism And All The Rest Of It. Not To Be Obsessed With Quail-fighting Or Other Crazes Like That.

Things Can Never Touch The Soul, But Stand Inert Outside It, So That Disquiet Can Arise Only From Fancies Within.

The Constant Recollection Of Death Is The Test Of Human Conduct.