Truth! Truth! Truth! Crieth The Lord Of

People Think That Talking Is A Sign Of Thinking. It Isn't, For The Most Part' On The Contrary, It's A Mechanical Dodge Of The Body To Relieve Oneself Of The Strain Of Thinking, Just As Exercising The Muscles Helps The Body To Become Temporarily Unconscious Of Its Weight, Its Pain, Its Weariness, And The Foreknowledge Of Its Doom.

I Slept With Faith And Found A Corpse In My Arms On Awakening; I Drank And Danced All Night With Doubt And Found Her A Virgin In The Morning.

To Knot A Sentence Up Properly, It Has To Be Thought Out Carefully, And Revised. New Phrases Have To Be Put In; Sudden Changes Of Subject Must Be Introducted; Verbs Must Be Shifted To Unsuspected Localities; Short Words Must Be Excised With Ruthless Hand; Archaisms Must Be Sprinkled Like Sugar-plums Upon The Concoction; The Fatal Human Tendency To Say Things Straightforwardly Must Be Detected And Defeated By Adroit Reversals; And, If A Glimmer Of Meaning Yet Remain Under Close Scrutiny, It Must Be Removed By Replacing All The Principal Verbs By Paraphrases In Some Dead Language.

The Man Who Denounces Life Merely Defines Himself As The Man Who Is Unequal To It.

The Eternal Mistake Of Mankind Is To Set Up An Attainable Ideal.