That Which Does Not Kill Us Makes

I Am Afraid That Old Women Are More Skeptical In Their Most Secret Heart Of Hearts Than Any Man: They Believe In The Superficiality Of Existence As In Its Essence, And All Virtue And Profundity Is To Them Merely A Veil Over This "truth," A Most Welcome Veil Over A Pudendum--and So A Matter Of Decency And Modesty, And Nothing Else.

The Slow Arrow Of Beauty. The Noblest Kind Of Beauty Is That Which Does Not Transport Us Suddenly, Which Does Not Make Stormy And Intoxicating Impressions Such A Kind Easily Arouses Disgust But That Which Slowly Filters Into Our Minds.

I Consist Of Body And Soul - In The Worlds Of A Child. And Why Shouldn't We Speak Like Children? But The Enlightened, The Knowledgealbe Would Say: I Am Body Through And Through, Nothing More; And The Soul Is Just A Word For Something On The Body.

I Presume That You Are Compassionate: To Be Without Pity Means To Be Sick In Body And Spirit. But One Should Have Spirit In Abundance, So As To Be Permitted To Be Compassionate! For Your Pity Is Detrimental To You And To Everyone.

Those That Achieve Anything That Looks Beyond The Vision And Thinking Of Their Peers Provoke Jealousy And Hatred Disguised As The Ordinary.