An Unusual Beginning Must Have An Unusual

Anyone Who Has Chanced Like Me To Roam Through Desolate Mountains And Studied At Length Their Fantastic Shapes And Drunk The Invigorating Air Of Their Valleys Can Understand Why I Wish To Describe And Depict These Magic Scenes For Others.

If Only People Thought A Little More About It, They Would See That Life Is Not Worrying About So Much.

I Love Enemies, Though Not In The Christian Way. They Amuse Me, Excite My Blood. Being Always On One’s Guard, Catching Every Glance, The Significance Of Every Word, Guessing At Intentions, Frustrating Their Plots, Pretending To Be Tricked, And Suddenly, With A Shove, Upturning The Whole Enormous And Arduously Built Edifice Of Their Cunning And Schemes—that’s What I Call Life.

Happy People Are Ignoramuses And Glory Is Nothing Else But Success, And To Achieve It One Only Has To Be Cunning.

I Have A Congenital Desire To Contradict; My Whole Life Is Merely A Chain Of Sad And Unsuccessful Contradictions To Heart And Mind. When Faced With Enthusiasm, I Am Seized By A Midwinter Freeze, And I Suppose That Frequent Dealings With Sluggish Phlegmatics Would Have Made A Passionate Dreamer.