When We Wish To Correct With Advantage,

The Only Shame Is To Have None.

Eloquence Is A Painting Of Thought; And Thus Those Who, After Having Painted It, Add Something More, Make A Picture Instead Of A Portrait.

Rivers Are Roads Which Move, And Which Carry Us Whither We Desire To Go.

We Sail Within A Vast Sphere, Ever Drifting In Uncertainty, Driven From End To End.

Let Us Now Speak According To Natural Lights. If There Is A God, He Is Infinitely Incomprehensible. . . . We Are Then Incapable Of Knowing Of Either What He Is Or If He Is. . . .