Don't Send A Poet To London.

All I Really Want Is Enough To Live On, A Little House In The Country... And A Tree In The Garden With Seven Of My Enemies Hanging In It.

The Stones Here Speak To Me, And I Know Their Mute Language. Also, They Seem Deeply To Feel What I Think. So A Broken Column Of The Old Roman Times, An Old Tower Of Lombardy, A Weather- Beaten Gothic Piece Of A Pillar Understands Me Well. But I Am A Ruin Myself, Wandering Among Ruins.

In Politics, As In Life, We Must Above All Things Wish Only For The Attainable.

God Has Given Us Speech In Order That We May Say Pleasant Things To Our Friends, And Tell Bitter Truths To Our Enemies.

All Our Contemporary Philosophers Perhaps Without Knowing It Are Looking Through Eyeglasses That Baruch Spinoza Polished. Spinoza Was A Philosopher Who Earned His Livelihood By Grinding Lenses.