Narcissus Never Wrote Well Nor Was A

Man Hoards Himself When He Has Nothing To Give Away.

I Have No Confidence In A Man Whose Faults You Cannot See.

We Cannot Live, Suffer Or Die For Somebody Else, For Suffering Is Too Precious To Be Shared.

Writing Is Conscience, Scruple, And The Farming Of Our Ancestors.

Men Are Mad Most Of Their Lives; Few Live Sane, Fewer Die So. The Acts Of People Are Baffling Unless We Realize That Their Wits Are Disordered. Man Is Driven To Justice By His Lunacy.