gold

Just as gold is burnt, cut and rubbed,
Examine my words carefully and
Do not accept them simply out of respect

If you don't trust gold, do you trust the logic of taking a pine tree, worth $4,000-$5,000, cutting it up, turning it into pulp, putting some ink on it and then calling it one billion dollars?

Literature, at its best, and despite the recent attempts of critics, can never be murdered and dissected, as it’s an immortal yet organic thing, drawing on the richness and complexity of Experience yet somehow managing to transcend its mundane origins like an alchemist transmuting base metals.

All that glisters is not gold.  Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

For men in a state of freedom had thatch for their shelter, while slavery dwells beneath marble and gold.

This discipline and rough treatment are a furnace to extract the silver from the dross. This testing purifies the gold by boiling the scum away.

Reshape yourself through the power of your will...

Those who have conquered themselves...live in peace, alike in cold and heat, pleasure and pain, praise and blame...To such people a clod of dirt, a stone, and gold are the same...Because they are impartial, they rise to great heights.

Only by much searching and mining are gold and diamonds obtained, and man can find every truth connected with his being if he will dig deep into the mine of his soul.

Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold.

FIRST MURDERER: WHERE IS THY CONSCIENCE NOW? SECOND MURDERER: In the Duke of Gloucester's purse FIRST MURDERER: So when he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out. SECOND MURDERER: Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it. FIRST MURDERER: How if it come to thee again? SECOND MURDERER: I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it checks him; he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him: it is a blushing shamefast spirit that multiplies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold, that I found: it beggars any man that keeps it: it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well, endeavours to trust to himself and to live without it. FIRST MURDERER: 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke.