A Child Is An Angel Dependent On

Reason Speaks In Words Alone, But Love Has A Song.

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.

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.

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.

Man's Destructive Hand Spares Nothing That Lives; He Kills To Feed Himself, He Kills To Clothe Himself, He Kills To Adorn Himself, He Kills To Attack, He Kills To Defend Himself, He Kills To Instruct Himself, He Kills To Amuse Himself, He Kills For The Sake Of Killing.