All Theory, My Friend, Is Grey, But

Rash Combat Oft Immortalizes Man; If He Should Fall, He Is Renowned In Song; But After-ages Reckon Not The Ceaseless Tears Which The Forsaken Woman Sheds. Poets Tell Us Not Of The Many Nights Consumed In Weeping, Or Of The Dreary Days Wherein Her Anguished Soul Vainly Yearns To Call Her Loved One Back.

Thinking Is Easy, Acting Is Difficult, And To Put One's Thoughts Into Action Is The Most Difficult Thing In The World.

There Is No Way To Face The Great Advantages Of Another Person Than Through Love.

National Literature Does Not Mean Much These Days; Now Is The Age Of World Literature, And Every One Must Contribute To Hasten Thearrival Of That Age.

Tell Me With Whom You Associate, And I Will Tell You Who You Are.