Intuition Is The Clear Conception Of The

Who, In The Midst Of Just Provocation To Anger, Instantly Finds The Fit Word Which Settles All Around Him In Silence Is More Than Wise Or Just; He Is, Were He A Beggar, Of More Than Royal Blood, He Is Of Celestial Descent.

He Knows Very Little Of Mankind Who Expects, By Any Facts Or Reasoning, To Convince A Determined Party Man.

Venerate Four Characters: The Sanguine Who Has Checked Volatility And The Rage For Pleasure; The Choleric Who Has Subdued Passion And Pride; The Phlegmatic Emerged From Indolence; And The Melancholy Who Has Dismissed Avarice, Suspicion And Asperity.

An Entirely Honest Man, In The Severe Sense Of The Word, Exists No More Than An Entirely Dishonest Knave: The Best And The Worst Are Only Approximations Of Those Qualities. Who Are Those That Never Contradict Themselves? Yet Honesty Never Contradicts Itself: Who Are Those That Always Contradict Themselves? Yet Knavery Is Mere Self-contradiction. Thus The Knowledge Of Man Determines Not The Things Themselves, But Their Proportions, The Quan∣tum Of Congruities And Incongruities.

The True Friend Of Truth And Good Loves Them Under All Forms, But He Loves Them Most Under The Most Simple Form.