Souls Are Made Of Dawn-stuff And Starshine.

A Book On Cheap Paper Does Not Convince. It Is Not Prized, It Is Like A Wheezy Doctor With Pigtail Tobacco Breath, Who Needs A Manicure.

The Man Who Is Anybody And Who Does Anything Is Surely Going To Be Criticized, Vilified, And Misunderstood. This Is A Part Of The Penalty For Greatness, And Every Great Man Understands It; And Understands, Too, That It Is No Proof Of Greatness. The Final Proof Of Greatness Lies In Being Able To Endure Contumely Without Resentment.

We Are Punished By Our Sins, Not For Them.

Strong Men Can Always Afford To Be Gentle. Only The Weak Are Intent On Giving As Good As They Get.

Life Is A Paradox. Every Truth Has Its Counterpart Which Contradicts It; And Every Philosopher Supplies The Logic His Own Undoing.