Charm Is A Product Of The Unexpected.

Man Is A Living Duty, A Depository Of Powers That He Must Not Leave In A Brute State. Man Is A Wing.

Others Go To Bed With Their Mistresses; I With My Ideas.

Men Are Products, Expressions, Reflections; They Live To The Extent That They Coincide With Their Epoch, Or To The Extent That They Differ Markedly From It.

Let Those Who Desire A Secure Homeland Conquer It. Let Those Who Do Not Conquer It Live Under The Whip And In Exile, Watched Over Like Wild Animals, Cast From One Country To Another, Concealing The Death Of Their Souls With A Beggar's Smile From The Scorn Of Free Men.

Peoples Are Made Of Hate And Of Love, And More Of Hate Than Love.