Wit Is An Explosion Of The Compound

If The Essence Of Cynicism Consists In Preferring Nature To Art, Virtue To Beauty And Science; In Not Bothering About The Letter Of Things -- To Which The Stoic Strictly Adheres -- But In Looking Up To The Spirit Of Things; In Absolute Contempt Of All Economic Values And Political Splendor, And In Courageous Defence Of The Rights Of Independent Freedom; Then Christianity Would Be Nothing But Universal Cynicism.

There Are Ancient And Modern Poems Which Breathe, In Their Entirety And In Every Detail, The Divine Breath Of Irony. In Such Poemsthere Lives A Real Transcendental Buffoonery. Their Interior Is Permeated By The Mood Which Surveys Everything And Rises Infinitely Above Everything Limited, Even Above The Poet's Own Art, Virtue, And Genius; And Their Exterior Form By The Histrionic Style Of An Ordinary Good Italian Buffo.

Form Your Life Humanly, And You Have Done Enough: But You Will Never Reach The Height Of Art And The Depth Of Science Without Something Divine.

One Of The Two Is Almost Always A Prevailing Tendency Of Every Author: Either Not To Say Some Things Which Certainly Should Be Said, Or To Say Many Things Which Did Not Need To Be Said. The First Is The Original Sin Of Synthetic Natures, The Latter Of Analytical Natures.

Aphorisms Are The True Form Of The Universal Philosophy.