What? A Great Man? I Only Ever

I Know My Fate. One Day My Name Will Be Associated With The Memory Of Something Tremendous — A Crisis Without Equal On Earth, The Most Profound Collision Of Conscience, A Decision That Was Conjured Up Against Everything That Had Been Believed, Demanded, Hallowed So Far. I Am No Man, I Am Dynamite.

What If God Were Not Exactly Truth, And If This Could Be Proved? And If He Were Instead The Vanity, The Desire For Power, The Ambitions, The Fear, And The Enraptured And Terrified Folly Of Mankind?

In The Knowledge Of Truth, What Really Matters Is The Possession Of It, Not The Impulse Under Which It Was Sought.

Insects Sting, Not From Malice, But Because They Want To Live. It Is The Same With Critics; They Desire Our Blood Not Our Pain.

Whatever Harm The Evil May Do, The Harm Done By The Good Is The Most Harmful Harm.