Love Can Sun The Realms Of Night.

We, We Live! Ours Are The Hours, And The Living Have Their Claims.

Everlastingly Chained To A Single Little Fragment Of The Whole, Man Himself Develops Into Nothing But A Fragment; Everlastingly In His Ear The Monotonous Sound Of The Wheel That He Turns, He Never Develops The Harmony Of His Being, And Instead Of Putting The Stamp Of Humanity Upon His Own Nature, He Becomes Nothing More Than The Imprint Of His Occupation Or Of His Specialized Knowledge.

It Is Criminal To Steal A Purse, Daring To Steal A Fortune, A Mark Of Greatness To Steal A Crown. The Blame Diminishes As The Guilt Increases.

Regarded In Isolation, An Idea May Be Quite Insignificant, And Venturesome In The Extreme, But It May Acquire Importance From An Idea Which Follows It; Perhaps, In A Certain Collocation With Other Ideas, Which May Seem Equally Absurd, It May Be Capable Of Furnishing A Very Serviceable Link.

As Inclination Changes, Thus Ebbs And Flows The Unstable Tide Of Public Judgment.