The Hour Of Justice Does Not Strike

If You Love Yourself Meanly, Childishly, Timidly, Even So Shall You Love Your Neighbor.

As Soon As We Put Something Into Words, We Devalue It In A Strange Way. We Think We Have Plunged Into The Depths Of The Abyss, And When We Return To The Surface The Drop Of Water On Our Pale Fingertips No Longer Resembles The Sea From Which It Comes. We Delude Ourselves That We Have Discovered A Wonderful Treasure Trove, And When We Return To The Light Of Day We Find That We Have Brought Back Only False Stones And Shards Of Glass; And Yet The Treasure Goes On Glimmering In The Dark, Unaltered.

We Should Tell Ourselves Once And For All That It Is The First Duty Of The Soul To Become As Happy, Complete, Independent, And Great As Lies In Its Power. To This End We May Sacrifice Even The Passion For Sacrifice, For Sacrifice Never Should Be The Means Of Ennoblement, But Only The Sign Of Being Ennobled.

It Is The Evil That Lies In Ourselves That Is Ever Least Tolerant Of The Evil That Dwells Within Others.

Wisdom Requires No Form; Her Beauty Must Vary, As Varies The Beauty Of Flame. She Is No Motionless Goddess, For Ever Couched On Her Throne.