Thinking Can Only Serve To Measure Out

There Is No Such Things As Magic, Though There Is Such A Thing As Knowledge Of The Hidden Ways Of Nature.

We Run To Place And Power Over The Dead Bodies Of Those Who Fail And Fall; Ay, We Win The Food We Eat From Out The Mouths Of Starving Babes.

It Is Awkward To Listen To Oneself Being Praised, And I Was Always A Shy Man.

Think Then What It Is To Live On Here Eternally And Yet Be Human; Toage In Soul And See Our Beloved Die And Pass To Lands Whither We Maynot Hope To Follow; To Wait While Drop By Drop The Curse Of The Longcenturies Falls Upon Our Imperishable Being, Like Water Slow Drippingon A Diamond That It Cannot Wear, Till They Be Born Anew Forgetful Ofus, And Again Sink From Our Helpless Arms Into The Void Unknowable.

Truly Wealth, Which Men Spend All Their Lives In Acquiring, Is A Valueless Thing At The Last.