To Write Is A Humiliation.

Ambition Is A Dead Sea Fruit, And The Greatest Peril To The Soul Is That One Is Likely To Get Precisely What He Is Seeking.

Man Pines To Live But Cannot Endure The Days Of His Life.

Recognize The Cunning Man Not By The Corpses He Pays Homage To But By The Living Writers He Conspires Against With The Most Shameful Weapon, Silence, Or The Briefest Review.

Though Man Is The Only Beast That Can Write, He Has Small Reason To Be Proud Of It. When He Utters Something That Is Wise It Is Nothing That The River Horse Does Not Know, And Most Of His Creations Are The Result Of Accident.

The Majority Of Persons Choose Their Wives With As Little Prudence As They Eat. They See A Troll With Nothing Else To Recommend Her But A Pair Of Thighs And Choice Hunkers, And So Smart To Void Their Seed That They Marry Her At Once. They Imagine They Can Live In Marvelous Contentment With Handsome Feet And Ambrosial Buttocks. Most Men Are Accredited Fools Shortly After They Leave The Womb.