Full Of Wisdom Are The Ordinations Of

Arrow-swift The Present Sweepeth, And Motionless Forever Stands The Past.

The Great Happiness Of Life, I Find, After All, To Consist In The Regular Discharge Of Some Mechanical Duty.

Everlastingly Chained To A Single Little Fragment Of The Whole, Man Himself Develops Into Nothing But A Fragment; Everlastingly In His Ear The Monotonous Sound Of The Wheel That He Turns, He Never Develops The Harmony Of His Being, And Instead Of Putting The Stamp Of Humanity Upon His Own Nature, He Becomes Nothing More Than The Imprint Of His Occupation Or Of His Specialized Knowledge.

Art Is The Daughter Of Freedom.

Deep Meaning Lies Often In Childish Play.