Everything Intercepts Us From Ourselves.

Fate Is Unpenetrated Causes.

Sunday Is The Core Of Our Civilization, Dedicated To Thought And Reverence.

After Thirty, A Man Wakes Up Sad Every Morning, Excepting Perhaps Five Or Six, Until The Day Of His Death.

The Sea, Washing The Equator And The Poles, Offers Its Perilous Aid, And The Power And Empire That Follow It... ''beware Of Me,'' It Says, ''but If You Can Hold Me, I Am The Key To All The Lands.

To Be Great, You Must Be Misunderstood