Everything That Frees Our Spirit Without Giving

The Web Of This World Is Woven Of Necessity And Chance. Woe To Him Who Has Accustomed Himself From His Youth Up To Find Something Necessary In What Is Capricious, And Who Would Ascribe Something Like Reason To Chance And Make A Religion Of Surrendering To It.

There Is Nothing By Which Men Display Their Character So Much As In What They Consider Ridiculous... Fools And Sensible Men Are Equally Innocuous. It Is In The Half Fools And The Half Wise That The Great Danger Lies.

Lord Byron Is Only Great As A Poet; As Soon As He Reflects He Is A Child.

The Soul Is Indestructible And Its Activity Will Continue Through Eternity. It Is Like The Sun, Which, To Our Eyes, Seems To Set At Night; But It Has In Reality Only Gone To Diffuse Its Light Elsewhere.

Should I Not Be Proud, When For Twenty Years I Have Had To Admit To Myself That The Great Newton And All The Mathematicians And Noble Calculators Along With Him Were Involved In A Decisive Error With Respect To The Doctrine Of Color, And That I Among Millions Was The Only One Who Knew What Was Right In This Great Subject Of Nature?