I Am Not A Man, I Am

There Are Slavish Souls Who Carry Their Appreciation For Favors Done Them So Far That They Strangle Themselves With The Rope Of Gratitude.

The Most Common Sort Of Lie Is The One Uttered To One's Self.

The Flame Is Not As Bright To Itself As It Is To Those It Illuminates: So Too The Sage.

You Never Exist Quite So Much As When You Are Not Thinking

Let That Day Be Lost To Us On Which We Did Not Dance Once!