If Content With Himself And Mankind, A

What Do You Do There, Moon, In The Sky? Tell Me What You Do, Silent Moon. When Evening Comes You Rise And Go Contemplating Wastelands; Then You Set.

Rest Forever, Tired Heart. The Final Illusion Has Perished. The One We Believed Eternal Is Gone. Just Like That. Out The Door Desire Follows Hope. Rest Forever. Enough Throbbing. Nothing Deserves Your Attention Nor Is The Earth Worth A Sigh. Bitterness And Boredom Is Life, Nothing Else Ever, And The World Is Mud. Quiet Now. Despair For The Last Time. Fate Gives Us Dying As A Gift. Now Turn From The Hills, The Ugly Hidden Power Which Rules For The Common Evil And The Infinite Vanity Of It All.

The Artist's Conception Of His Art Or The Scientist's Of His Science Is Usually As Great As His Conception Of His Own Worth Is Small.

I May Be Wrong, But It Seems Rare In Our Age To Find A Widely Praised Person Whose Own Mouth Is Not The Source Of That Praise.

He Who Has The Courage To Laugh Is Almost As Much A Master Of The World As He Who Is Ready To Die.