I Do Not Believe In Belief.

Pity Wraps The Student Of The Past In An Ambrosial Cloud, And Washes His Limbs With Eternal Youth.

Charm, In Most Men And Nearly All Women, Is A Decoration.

Ideas Are Fatal To Caste.

In The Novel We Can Know People Perfectly, And, Apart From The General Pleasure Of Reading, We Can Find Here A Compensation For Their Dimness In Life.

You Want To Love Everyone Equally, And That's Worse Than Impossible--it's Wrong.