I Care Not Whether A Man Is

The Hours Of Folly Are Measured By The Clock; But Of Wisdom, No Clock Can Measure.

Nature In Darkness Groans And Men Are Bound To Sullen Contemplation In The Night: Restless They Turn On Beds Of Sorrow; In Their Inmost Brain Feeling The Crushing Wheels, They Rise, They Write The Bitter Words Of Stern Philosophy And Knead The Bread Of Knowledge With Tears And Groans.

What Seems To Be, Is, To Those To Whom It Seems To Be, And Is Productive Of The Most Dreadful Consequences To Those To Whom It Seems To Be, Even Of Torments, Despair, Eternal Death.

Shame Is Pride's Cloak.

Innate Ideas Are In Every Man, Born With Him; They Are Truly Himself. The Man Who Says That We Have No Innate Ideas Must Be A Fool And Knave, Having No Conscience Or Innate Science.