My Soul Hates The Fool Whose Only

Chaos Is Perhaps At The Bottom Of Everything.

Words Are Weapons, And It Is Dangerous . . . To Borrow Them From The Arsenal Of The Enemy.

If All Art Aspires To The Condition Of Music, All The Sciences Aspire To The Condition Of Mathematics.

The Wisest Mind Has Something Yet To Learn.

In This World We Must Either Institute Conventional Forms Of Expression Or Else Pretend That We Have Nothing To Express; The Choice Lies Between A Mask And A Figleaf.