Beware Of Spitting Against The Wind!

Watch Them Clamber, These Swift Monkeys! They Clamber Over One Another And Thus Drag One Another Into The Mud And The Depth. They All Want To Get To The Throne: That Is Their Madness — As If Happiness Sat On The Throne. Often, Mud Sits On The Throne — And Often The Throne Also On Mud. Mad They All Appear To Me, Clambering Monkeys And Overardent. Foul Smells Their Idol, The Cold Monster: Foul, They Smell To Me Altogether, These Idolators.

Whoever Does Not Know How To Find The Way To His Ideal Lives More Frivolously And Impudently Than The Man Without An Ideal.

Art Depends Upon The Inexactitude Of Sight.

The Author Must Keep His Mouth Shut When His Work Starts To Speak.

In Constructing Concepts, We Overlook The Fact That No Two Things Are The Same. There Is No Such Thing As The Concept Of A Leaf, Only Billions And Billions Of Leaves.