Hypocrites Weep, And You Cannot Tell Their

When You Talk Yourself, You Think How Witty, How Original, How Acute You Are; But When Another Does So, You Are Very Apt To Think Only - What A Crib From Rochefoucauld!

The State Only Aims At Instilling Those Qualities In Its Public By Which Its Demands Are Obeyed, And Its Exchequer Is Filled. Its Highest Attainment Is The Reduction Of Mankind To Clockwork. In Its Atmosphere All Those Finer And More Delicate Liberties, Which Require Treatment And Spacious Expansion, Inevitably Dry Up And Perish. The State Requires A Taxpaying Machine In Which There Is No Hitch, An Exchequer In Which There Is Never A Deficit, And A Public, Monotonous, Obedient, Colorless, Spiritless, Moving Humbly Like A Flock Of Sheep Along A Straight High Road Between Two Walls.

You Have Not A Boat Of Your Own, That Is Just It; That Is What Women Always Suffer From; They Have To Steer, But The Craft Is Some One Else's, And The Haul Too.

When One Has Not Father, Or Mother, Or Brother, And All One's Friends Have Barely Bread Enough For Themselves, Life Cannot Be Very Easy, Nor Its Crusts Very Many At Any Time.

Love Is Cruel As The Grave.