Sin Writes Histories, Goodness Is Silent. [ger.,

The Longer I Live, The More It Grieves Me To See Man, Who Occupies His Supreme Place For The Very Purpose Of Imposing His Will Upon Nature, And Freeing Himself And His From An Outrageous Necessity--to See Him Taken Up With Some False Notion, And Doing Just The Opposite Of What He Wants To Do; And Then, Because The Whole Bent Of His Mind Is Spoilt, Bungling Miserably Over Everything.

A Man Who Cannot Command Himself Will Always Be A Slave.

In The End We Are All Separate: Our Stories, No Matter How Similar, Come To A Fork And Diverge. We Are Drawn To Each Other Because Of Our Similarities, But It Is Our Differences We Must Learn To Respect.

Anecdotes And Maxims Are Rich Treasures To The Man Of The World, For He Knows How To Introduce The Former At Fit Place In Conversation.

The Artist Has A Twofold Relation To Nature; He Is At Once Her Master And Her Slave.