Books Are Embalmed Minds.

The Busiest Of Living Agents Are Certain Dead Men's Thoughts.

Without Death In The World, Existence In It Would Soon Become, Through Over-population, The Most Frightful Of Curses.

The Body Of A Sensualist Is The Coffin Of A Dead Soul.

Dishonesty Is A Forsaking Of Permanent For Temporary Advantages.

I Desire To Go Through Life Knowing As Little Of Evil In It As Possible. To This End, I Sometimes Avoid Looking Too Closely Into The Nature Of Things, Studying Them Only So Far As They Seem To Be Good, And Abandoning Interest In Them As Soon As Their Darker Feature Begin To Appear. The Good Only Deserves A Hearty Interest.