Revision Is Its Own Reward.

The Passion For Setting People Right Is In Itself An Afflictive Disease.

So Wary As To Disappear For Centuries And Reappear But Never Caught, The Unicorn Has Been Preserved By An Unmatched Device Wrought Like The Work Of Expert Blacksmiths.

As For Butterflies, I Can Hardly Conceive Of One's Attending Upon You; But To Question The Congruence Of The Complement Is Vain, If It Exists.

I, Too, Dislike It. Reading It, However, With A Perfect Contempt For It, One Discovers In It, After All, A Place For The Genuine.

We Are What We Were At Birth, And Each Trait Has Remained In Conformity With Earth's And With Heaven's Logic: Be The Devil's Tool, Resort To Black Magic, None Can Diverge From The Ends Which Heaven Foreordained.