All Words Are Prejudices.

Convictions Are Prisons.

All Idealists Imagine That The Causes They Serve Are Fundamentally Better Than Any Other Causes In The World, And They Refuse To Believe That If Their Cause Is To Flourish At All It Requires Precisely The Same Foul-smelling Manure That Is Necessary To All Other Human Undertakings.

In A Seriously Intended Intellectual Emancipation A Person's Mute Passions And Cravings Also Hope To Find Their Advantage.

Such A Man As Instinctively Feeds On Pure Ambrosia And Leaves Alone The Indigestible In Things.

Tragedy Is Dead! Poetry Itself Died With It! Away, Away With You, Puny, Stunted Imitators! Away With You To Hades, And Eat Your Fill Of The Old Masters' Crumbs!