Sleeping Is No Mean Art: For Its

Once Upon A Time, In Some Out Of The Way Corner Of That Universe Which Is Dispersed Into Numberless Twinkling Solar Systems, There Was A Star Upon Which Clever Beasts Invented Knowing.

So Long As The Priest, That Professional Negator, Slanderer And Poisoner Of Life, Is Regarded As A Superior Type Of Human Being, There Cannot Be Any Answer To The Question: What Is Truth?

Philosophical Systems Are Wholly True For Their Founders Only.

The So Called Unconscious Inferences Can Be Traced Back To The All-preserving Memory, Which Presents Us With Parallel Experiences And Hence Already Knows The Consequences Of An Action. It Is Not Anticipation Of The Effects; Rather, It Is The Feeling: Identical Causes, Identical Effects . . .

Verily, I Do Not Like Them, The Merciful Who Feel Blessed In Their Pity: They Are Lacking Too Much In Shame. If I Must Pity, At Least I Do Not Want It Known; And If I Do Pity, It Is Preferably From A Distance.