For A Desperate Disease A Desperate Cure.

The Customs And Practices Of Life In Society Sweep Us Along.

Every Other Knowledge Is Harmful To Him Who Does Not Have Knowledge Of Goodness.

Even In The Midst Of Compassion We Feel Within I Know Not What Tart Sweet Titillation Of Malicious Pleasure In Seeing Others Suffer; Children Have The Same Feeling.

Man In Sooth Is A Marvellous, Vain, Fickle, And Unstable Subject.

Eloquence Is An Engine Invented To Manage And Wield At Will The Fierce Democracy, And, Like Medicine To The Sick, Is Only Employed In The Paroxysms Of A Disordered State.