Nothing Is So Atrocious As Fancy Without

All Men Would Be Masters Of Others, And No Man Is Lord Of Himself.

Gray Is The Color Of All Theory

But One Must Know Where One Stands, And Where The Others Wish To Go.

Truth Is A Torch, But A Huge One, And So It Is Only With Blinking Eyes What We All Of Us Try To Get Past It, In Actual Terror Of Being Burnt.

He Who Only Tastes His Error Will Long Dwell With It, Will Take Delight In It As In A Singular Felicity; While He Who Drains It To The Dregs Will, If He Be Not Crazy, Find It To Be What It Is.