All Theory, My Friend, Is Grey, But

No Man Learns To Know His Inmost Nature By Introspection, For He Rates Himself Sometimes Too Low, And Often Too High, By His Own Measurement. Man Knows Himself Only By Comparing Himself With Other Men; It Is Life That Touches His Genuine Worth.

Woe To Falsehood! It Affords No Relief To The Breast, Like Truth; It Gives Us No Comfort, Pains Him Who Forges It, And Like An Arrow Directed By A God Flies Back And Wounds The Archer.

Mediocrity Has No Greater Consolation Than In The Thought That Genius Is Not Immortal.

That Which Thy Fathers Have Bequeathed To Thee, Earn It Anew If Thou Wouldst Possess It.

Happiness Is A Ball After Which We Run Wherever It Rolls, And We Push It With Our Feet When It Stops.