If I Am Mad, It Is Mercy!

Toil Without Song Is Like A Weary Journey Without An End.

Memories And Possibilities Are Even More Hideous Than Realities.

In Short, The World Abounds With Simple Delusions Which We May Call "happiness", If We Be But Able To Entertain Them.

Who Knows The End? What Has Risen May Sink, And What Has Sunk May Rise.

It Is An Unfortunate Fact That Every Man Who Seeks To Disseminate Knowledge Must Contend Not Only Against Ignorance Itself, But Against False Instruction As Well. No Sooner Do We Deem Ourselves Free From A Particularly Gross Superstition, Than We Are Confronted By Some Enemy To Learning Who Would Set Aside All The Intellectual Progress Of Years, And Plunge Us Back Into The Darkness Of Mediaeval Disbelief.