A Man Has Many Parts, He Is

Cries Of Despair, Misery, Sobbing Grief Are A Kind Of Wealth.

The Strong Are Strengthened By Reverses; The Trouble Is That The True Meaning Of Events Scores Next To Nothing In The Match We Play With Men. Appearances Decide Our Gains Or Losses And The Points Are Trumpery. And A Mere Semblance Of Defeat May Hopelessly Checkmate Us.

"what Place Would You Advise Me To Visit Now?" He Asked. "the Planet Earth," Replied The Geographer. "it Has A Good Reputation."

Each Man Carries Within Him The Soul Of A Poet Who Died Young.

No Truth Is Proved, No Truth Achieved, By Argument, And The Ready-made Truths Men Offer You Are Mere Conveniences Or Drugs To Make You Sleep.