Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul.

What we feel and think and are is to a great extent determined by the state of our ductless glands and viscera.

It’s not morbid to talk about death. Most people don’t worry about death, they worry about a bad death.

‚Happiness‘ is a pointless goal.

My philosophy is: It’s none of my business what people say of me and think of me.

More gold has been mined from the thoughts of men than has been taken from the earth.

What a man believes may be ascertained, not from his creed, but from the assumptions on which he habitually acts.

Mysteries are not necessarily miracles.

Such is the feebleness of humanity, such is its perversity, that doubtless it is better for it to be subject to all possible superstitions, as long as they are not murderous, than to live without religion.

Know then this truth, enough for man to know virtue alone is happiness below.

They tell us that suicide is the greatest piece of cowardice… that suicide is wrong; when it is quite obvious that there is nothing in the world to which every man has a more unassailable title than to his own life and person.

All religions, arts and sciences are branches of the same tree.

I had rather believe all the Fables in the Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without a Mind.

I still live, I still think: I still have to live, for I still have to think.

Prayer is not asking. It is a longing of the soul. It is daily admission of one’s weakness. It is better in prayer to have a heart without words than words without a heart.

An act has no ethical quality whatever unless it be chosen out of several all equally possible.

No notice is taken of a little evil, but when it increases it strikes the eye.

The wise man does not expose himself needlessly to danger, since there are few things for which he cares sufficiently; but he is willing, in great crises, to give even his life – knowing that under certain conditions it is not worthwhile to live.

We call a man a bigot or a slave of dogma because he is a thinker who has thought thoroughly and to a definite end.

Call it Nature, Fate, Fortune; all these are names of the one and selfsame God.

It is the superfluous things for which men sweat, – superfluous things that wear our togas theadbare, that force us to grow old in camp, that dash us upon foreign shores.

The most incomprehensible thing about the world is that it is comprehensible.

Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of mankind is man.

For centuries, theologians have been explaining the unknowable in terms of the-not-worth-knowing.

What do you want a meaning for? Life is a desire, not a meaning.

It is natural to die as to be born.

The universe is change; our life is what our thoughts make it.

If it is surely the means to the highest end we know, can any work be humble or disgusting? Will it not rather be elevating as a ladder, the means by which we are translated?

A person is a person because he recognizes others as persons.

To eat is to appropriate by destruction.

Being is. Being is in-itself. Being is what it is.

Toleration is the greatest gift of the mind; it requires the same effort of the brain that it takes to balance oneself on a bicycle.

It is better to suffer wrong than to do it, and happier to be sometimes cheated than not to trust.

To me, if life boils down to one thing, it’s movement. To live is to keep moving.

It is not necessary that whilst I live I live happily; but it is necessary that so long as I live I should live honourably.

I don’t think that faith, whatever you’re being faithful about, really can be scientifically explained. And I don’t want to explain this whole life business through truth, science. There’s so much mystery. There’s so much awe.

One always dies too soon or too late. And yet, life is there, finished: the line is drawn, and it must all be added up. You are nothing other than your life.

The higher the sun ariseth, the less shadow doth he cast; even so the greater is the goodness, the less doth it covet praise; yet cannot avoid its rewards in honours.

The act of dying is one of the acts of life.

O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!

To be conscious means not simply to be, but to be reported, known, to have awareness of one’s being added to that being.

In books lies the soul of the whole past time.

We are to admit no more causes of natural things than such as are both true and sufficient to explain their appearances.

As soon as questions of will or decision or reason or choice of action arise, human science is at a loss.

Buddhism has in it no idea of there being a moral law laid down by somekind of cosmic lawgiver.

Jesus Christ belonged to the true race of prophets. He saw with open eye the mystery of the soul. Drawn by its severe harmony, ravished with its beauty, he lived in it and had his being there. Alone in all history, he estimated the greatness of man.

Those who hope for no other life are dead even for this.

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

Everything that happens happens as it should, and if you observe carefully, you will find this to be so.

Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of.

Somewhere, everywhere, now hidden, now apparent in what ever is written down, is the form of a human being. If we seek to know him, are we idly occupied?

Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

Nothing in the universe is contingent, but all things are conditioned to exist and operate in a particular manner by the necessity of the divine nature.

Maybe stories are just data with a soul.

If it’s true that our species is alone in the universe, then I’d have to say the universe aimed rather low and settled for very little.

No man was ever wise by chance.

Man’s true nature being lost, everything becomes his nature; as, his true good being lost, everything becomes his good.

There is nothing so absurd that some philosopher has not already said it.

Nature never deceives us; it is we who deceive ourselves.

Faith must trample under foot all reason, sense, and understanding.

To be a real philosopher all that is necessary is to hate some one else’s type of thinking.