My Peace Is Gone, My Heart Is

To Make Something You Have To Be Something.

Were Not The Eye Made To Receive The Rays Of The Sun, It Could Not Behold The Sun; If The Peculiar Power Of God Lay Not In Us, How Could The Godlike Charm Us?

Die Mathematiker Sind Eine Art Franzosen. Spricht Man Zu Ihnen, So übersetzen Sie Alles In Ihre Eigene Sprache, Und So Wird Es Alsobald Etwas Ganz Anderes. Mathematicians Are A Kind Of Frenchmen. Whenever You Say Anything Or Talk To Them, They Translate It Into Their Own Language, And Right Away It Is Something Completely Different.

What Dazzles, For The Moment Spends Its Spirit; Whats Genuine, Shall Posterity Inherit.

Passions Are Defects Or Virtues In The Highest Power.