Belief Of Some Sort Is The Lifeblood

Age Is Nothing But Death That Is Conscious.

In A Few Generations More, There Will Probably Be No Room At All Allowed For Animals On The Earth: No Need Of Them, No Toleration Of Them. An Immense Agony Will Have Then Ceased, But With It There Will Also Have Passed Away The Last Smile Of The World's Youth.

It Is The North Wind That Lashes Men Into Vikings; It Is The Soft, Luscious South Wind Which Lulls Them To Lotus Dreams.

Youth Without Faith Is A Day Without Sun.

To Vice, Innocence Must Always Seem Only A Superior Kind Of Chicanery.