Pride Eradicates All Vices But Itself.

The Remedy For All Blunders, The Cure Of Blindness, The Cure Of Crime, Is Love.

You Cannot See The Mountain Near.

The Times Are The Masquerade Of The Eternities; Trivial To The Dull, Tokens Of Noble And Majestic Agents To The Wise; The Receptacle In Which The Past Leaves Its History; The Quarry Out Of Which The Genius Of Today Is Building Up The Future.

All Loss, All Pain, Is Particular; The Universe Remains To The Heart Unhurt.

Consistency Is The Bugbear That Frightens Little Minds.