What A Blessing It Would Be If

Everyone Who Has Ever Written Will Have Discovered That Writing Always Awakens Something Which, Though It Lay Within Us, We Failed Clearly To Recognize Before.

The Course Of The Seasons Is A Piece Of Clockwork, With A Cuckoo To Call When It Is Spring.

As Nations Improve, So Do Their Gods.

First There Is A Time When We Believe Everything, Then For A Little While We Believe With Discrimination, Then We Believe Nothing Whatever, And Then We Believe Everything Again - And, Moreover, Give Reasons Why We Believe.

He Who Knows Himself Properly Can Very Soon Learn To Know All Other Men. It Is All Reflection.