I Understood That Centuries Of Chains And

You Love Your Work. God Help You, You Love It! And Thats The Curse. That's The Brand On Your Forehead For All Of Them To See. You Love It And They Know It, And They Know They Have You. Do You Ever Look At The People In The Street? Aren't You Afraid Of Them? I Am. They Move Past You And They Wear Hats And They Carry Bundles. But That's Not The Substance Of Them. The Substance Of Them Is Hatred For Any Man Who Loves His Work. That's The Only Kind They Fear. I Don't Know Why

The Meaning Ascribed In Popular Usage To The Word 'selfishness' Is Not Merely Wrong: It Represents A Devastating Intellectual 'package-deal,' Which Is Responsible, More Than Any Other Single Factor, For The Arrested Moral Development Of Mankind.

This Miracle Of Me Is Mine To Own And Keep, And Mine To Guard, And Mine To Use, And Mine To Kneel Before.

But Aristotle's Philosophy Was The Intellect's Declaration Of Independence.

To Say ‘i Love You’ One Must First Know How To Say The ‘i.’ The Meaning Of The ‘i’ Is An Independent, Self-sufficient Entity That Does Not Exist For The Sake Of Any Other Person. A Person Who Exists Only For The Sake Of His Loved One Is Not An Independent Entity, But A Spiritual Parasite. The Love Of A Parasite Is Worth Nothing.