The Controlling Intelligence Understands Its Own Nature,

Look Deep Into The Hearts Of Men, And See What Delights And Disgusts The Wise.

Is Your Cucumber Bitter? Throw It Away. Are There Briars In Your Path? Turn Aside. That Is Enough. Do Not Go On And Ay, 'why Were Things Of This Sort Ever Brought Into The World?'

Things Themselves Cannot Touch The Soul, Not In The Least Degree, Nor Have They Admission To The Soul Nor Can They Turn Or Move The Soul: It Turns And Moves Itself Alone And Whatever Judgment It May Think Proper To Make, Such It Makes By Remaking For Itself The Things That Present Themselves To It

The Soul Is Dyed By The Thoughts. Dye It Then, With A Continuous Series Of Such Thoughts As These - That Where A Man Can Live, There - If He Will - He Can Also Live Well.

Whatever Anyone Does Or Says, I Must Be Emerald And Keep My Colour.