Whatever Limits Us We Call Fate.

People Seem Sheathed In Their Tough Organization.

Envy Is Ignorance, Imitation Is Suicide.

Men Such As They Are, Very Naturally Seek Money Or Power; And Power Because It Is As Good As Money.

The Soul Refuses Limits And Always Affirms An Optimism, Never A Pessimism.

By Virtue Of This Science The Poet Is The Namer, Or Language-maker, Naming Things Sometimes After Their Appearance, Sometimes After Their Essence, And Giving To Every One Its Own Name And Not Another's, Thereby Rejoicing The Intellect, Which Delights In Detachment Or Boundary.