Accident Is Simply Unforeseen Order.

The Poem Of The Understanding Is Philosophy.

Mathematics Is The Life Of The Gods.

Friendship, Love, And Piety Ought To Be Handled With A Sort Of Mysterious Secrecy; They Ought To Be Spoken Of Only In The Rare Moments Of Perfect Confidence, To Be Mutually Understood In Silence. Many Things Are Too Delicate To Be Thought; Many More, To Be Spoken.

To Become Properly Acquainted With A Truth, We Must First Have Disbelieved It, And Disputed Against It.

Hypotheses Are Nets: Only He Who Casts Will Catch.