Language Makes Infinite Use Of Finite Media.

All Translating Seems To Me To Be Simply An Attempt To Accomplish An Impossible Task.

Map Reconciles Himself To Almost Any Event, However Trying, If It Happens In The Ordinary Course Of Nature. It Is The Extraordinary Alone That He Rebels Against. There Is A Moral Idea Associated With This Feeling; For The Extraordinary Appears To Be Something Like An Injustice Of Heaven.

The Sorrow Which Calls For Help And Comfort Is Not The Greatest, Nor Does It Come From The Depths Of The Heart.

The Finest Fruit Earth Holds Up To Its Maker Is A Finished Man.

Government, Religion, Property, Books, Are Nothing But The Scaffolding To Build Men. Earth Holds Up To Her Master No Fruit Like The Finished Man.