I Fear That, With Our Current Veneration

When One Thinks Profusely And Cleverly, Not Only His Face But His Body Too Takes On A Clever Appearance.

Every Habit Makes Our Hand More Witty And Our Wit Less Handy.

Love Is Blind; Friendship Closes Its Eyes.

It Is Nothing But Fanaticism And Beautiful Soulism To Expect Very Much (or Even, Much Only) From Humanity When It Has Forgotten How To Wage War.

Man Is Not Equally Moral At All Hours, This Is Well Known. If His Morality Is Judged To Be The Capability For Great Self-sacrificing Resolutions And Self-denial (which, When Continuous And Grown Habitual, Are Called Holiness)