To Know How To Wait. It Is

Man Is Insatiable For Power; He Is Infantile In His Desires And, Always Discontented With What He Has, Loves Only What He Has Not. People Complain Of The Despotism Of Princes; They Ought To Complain Of The Despotism Of Man.

The Concept Of Number Is The Obvious Distinction Between The Beast And Man.

In The Whole Vast Dome Of Living Nature There Reigns An Open Violence, A Kind Of Prescriptive Fury Which Arms All The Creatures To Their Common Doom: As Soon As You Leave The Inanimate Kingdom You Find The Decree Of Violent Death Inscribed On The Very Frontiers Of Life.

The Whole Earth, Perpetually Steeped In Blood, Is Nothing But An Immense Altar On Which Every Living Thing Must Be Sacrificed Without End, Without Restraint, Without Respite Until The Consummation Of The World, The Extinction Of Evil, The Death Of Death.

I Don't Know What A Scoundrel Is Like, But I Know What A Respectable Man Is Like, And It's Enough To Make One's Flesh Creep.