Every Form Of Life Is In Its

Separate Religion From Morality, And You Have The True Energy For Evil Within Man, The Terrible, Cruel, Devastating, And Inhuman Principle Which Naturally Lies In His Spirit. Here The Division Of The Indivisible Punishes Itself Most Awfully.

The Analytical Writer Observes The Reader As He Is; Accordingly, He Makes His Calculation, Sets His Machine To Make The Appropriate Effect On Him. The Synthetic Writer Constructs And Creates His Own Reader; He Does Not Imagine Him As Resting And Dead, But Lively And Advancing Toward Him. He Makes That Which He Had Invented Gradually Take Shape Before The Reader's Eyes, Or He Tempts Him To Do The Inventing For Himself. He Does Not Want To Make A Particular Effect On Him, But Rather Enters Into A Solemn Relationship Of Innermost Symphilosophy Or Sympoetry.

Life Is Writing. The Sole Purpose Of Mankind Is To Engrave The Thoughts Of Divinity Onto The Tablets Of Nature.

Even A Friendly Conversation Which Cannot Be At Any Given Moment Be Broken Off Voluntarily With Complete Arbitrariness Has Something Illiberal About It. An Artist, However, Who Is Able And Wants To Express Himself Completely, Who Keeps Nothing To Himself And Would Wish To Say Everything He Knows, Is Very Much To Be Pitied.

Just As The Romans Were The Only Nation That Was Truly A Nation, So Our Age Is The First Genuine Age.