Is There Anything So Grave And Serious

Wise People Are Foolish If They Cannot Adapt To Foolish People.

The World Always Looks Straights Ahead; As For Me, I Turn My Gaze Inward, I Fix It There And Keep It Busy. Everyone Looks In Front Of Him: As For Me, I Look Inside Me: I Have No Business But With Myself; I Continually Observe Myself, I Take Stock Of Myself, I Taste Myself. Others...they Always Go Forward; As For Me, I Roll About In Myself.

Judgement Holds In Me A Magisterial Seat, At Least It Carefully Tries To. It Lets My Feelings Go Their Way, Both Hatred And Friendship, Even The Friendship I Bear Myself, Without Being Changed And Corrupted By Them.

For There Is No Air That Men So Greedily Draw In, That Diffuses Itself So Soon, And That Penetrates So Deep As That Of License.

If Ordinary People Complain That I Speak Too Much Of Myself, I Complain That They Do Not Even Think Of Themselves.