You Could Tell A Lot About A

He Who Asks Fortune-tellers The Future Unwittingly Forfeits An Inner Intimation Of Coming Events That Is A Thousand Times More Exact Than Anything They May Say. He Is Impelled By Inertia, Rather Than Curiosity, And Nothing Is More Unlike The Submissive Apathy With Which He Hears His Fate Revealed Than The Alert Dexterity With Which The Man Of Courage Lays Hands On The Future.

Things Are Only Mannequins And Even The Great World-historical Events Are Only Costumes Beneath Which They Exchange Glances With Nothingness.

All Disgust Is Originally Disgust At Touching.

We Collect Books In The Belief That We Are Preserving Them When In Fact It Is The Books That Preserve Their Collector.

I Would Like To Metamorphose Into A Mouse-mountain.