The Soul That Has No Established Aim

I Write To Keep From Going Mad From The Contradictions I Find Among Mankind - And To Work Some Of Those Contradictions Out For Myself.

It Is Putting A Very High Price On One's Conjectures To Have Someone Roasted Alive On Their Account.

Custom Is A Violent And Treacherous School Mistress. She, By Little And Lithe, Slyly And Unperceived, Slips In The Foot Of Her Authority; But Having By This Gentle And Humble Beginning, With The Benefit Of Time, Fixed And Established It, She Then Unmasks A Furious And Tyrannic Countenance, Against Which We Have No More The Courage Or The Power So Much As To Lift Up Our Eyes.

Rash And Incessant Scolding Runs Into Custom And Renders Itself Despised.

A Man May Be Humble Through Vainglory.