I give the fight up: let there be an end, A privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.

More from Paracelsus

• Autumn wins you best by this its mute Appeal to sympathy for its decay.
• Error has no end.
• Progress is The law of life: man is not Man as yet.
• Truth is within ourselves.
• Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?
• A minute’s success pays the failure of years.