In A Narrow Circle The Mind Grows

There Are Occasions When The General Belief Of The People, Even Though It Be Groundless, Works Its Effect As Sure As Truth Itself.

History, Insofar As It Accustoms Human Beings To Comprehend The Whole Of The Past And To Hasten Forward With Its Conclusions Into The Far Future, Conceals The Boundaries Of Birth And Death, Which Enclose The Life Of The Human Being So Narrowly And Oppressively, And With A Kind Of Optical Illusion, Expands His Short Existence Into Endless Space, Leading The Individual Imperceptibly Over Into Humanity.

Everlastingly Chained To A Single Little Fragment Of The Whole, Man Himself Develops Into Nothing But A Fragment; Everlastingly In His Ear The Monotonous Sound Of The Wheel That He Turns, He Never Develops The Harmony Of His Being, And Instead Of Putting The Stamp Of Humanity Upon His Own Nature, He Becomes Nothing More Than The Imprint Of His Occupation Or Of His Specialized Knowledge.

One Can Give Advice Comfortably From A Safe Port.

Against Stupidity, God Himself Fights In Vain.