Society Rests Upon Conscience, Not Upon Science.

Common Sense Is The Measure Of The Possible.

Righteous Ends, Thus Approved, Absolve Of Guilt The Most Violent Means.

The Great Majority Of Men Are But Tangled Skeins, Imperfect Keyboards, So Many Specimens Of Restless Or Stagnant Chaos--and What Makes Their Situation Almost Hopeless Is The Fact That They Take Pleasure In It. There Is No Curing A Sick Man Who Believes Himself In Health.

The Philosopher Aspires To Explain Away All Mysteries, To Dissolve Them Into Light. Mystery On The Other Hand Is Demanded And Pursued By The Religious Instinct; Mystery Constitutes The Essence Of Worship, The Power Of Proselytism.

Our Greatest Illusion Is To Believe That We Are What We Think Ourselves To Be.