It Is From Books That Wise Men

To Err Is Human. To Loaf Is Parisian.

These Are True Felicities. No Joy Beyond These Joys. Love Is The Only Ecstasy, Everything Else Weeps

To Meditate Is To Labour; To Think Is To Act. Folded Arms Work, Closed Hands Perform, A Gaze Fixed On Heaven Is A Toil.

Beauty Is As Useful As The Useful. More So, Perhaps. (le Beau Est Aussi Utile Que L'utile. Plus Peut-etre.)

That Is The Explanation Of War, An Outrage By Humanity Upon Humanity In Despite Of Humanity.