To Please The Many Is To Displease

It Is The Usual Consolation Of The Envious, If They Cannot Maintain Their Superiority, To Represent Those By Whom They Are Surpassed As Inferior To Some One Else.

For, In The Language Of Heraclitus, The Virtuous Soul Is Pure And Unmixed Light, Springing From The Body As A Flash Of Lightning Darts From The Cloud. But The Soul That Is Carnal And Immersed In Sense, Like A Heavy And Dank Vapor, Can With Difficulty Be Kindled, And Caused To Raise Its Eyes Heavenward.

If You Declare That You Are Naturally Designed For Such A Diet, Then First Kill For Yourself What You Want To Eat. Do It, However, Only Through Your Own Resources, Unaided By Cleaver Or Cudgel Or Any Kind Of Ax

Rest Is The Sweet Sauce Of Labor.

The Superstitious Man Wishes He Did Not Believe In Gods, As The Atheist Does Not, But Fears To Disbelieve In Them.