A Man Of No Conversation Should Smoke.

In Private Places, Among Sordid Objects, An Act Of Truth Or Heroism Seems At Once To Draw To Itself The Sky As Its Temple, The Sun As Its Cradle. Nature Stretches Out Her Arms To Embrace Man, Only Let His Thoughts Be Of Equal Greatness.

People Do Not Deserve To Have Good Writing, They Are So Pleased With Bad.

Why Should We Grope Among The Dry Bones Of The Past, Or Put The Living Generation Into Masquerade Out Of Its Faded Wardrobe?

Knowledge Is The Antidote To Fear

When We Have Arrived At The Question, The Answer Is Already Near.