Radicalism Is But The Desperation Of Logic.

Limited In His Nature, Infinite In His Desires, Man Is A Fallen God Who Remembers The Heavens.

All Our Tastes Are But Reminiscences.

And When Night, Guiding Her Bright Train Of Stars, Throws O'er The Sleeping World Her Gloomy Veil, Lonely Amidst The Desert And The Darkness, Musing Upon The Night's Calm Majesty; Wrapt Up In Quietness, With Shade And Silence, My Soul More Closely Worshippeth Thy Presence; With An Internal Day I Feel Enlighten'd, And Hear A Voice, Which Biddeth Me To Hope.

Sometimes, Only One Person Is Missing, And The Whole World Seems Depopulated.

Philosophy Is The Rational Expression Of Genius.