Our Deeds Are Fetters That We Forge

It Is A Wonderful Subduer-this Need Of Love, This Hunger Of The Heart.

We Are All Of Us Born In Moral Stupidity, Taking The World As An Udder To Feed Our Supreme Selves

So Deeply Inherent Is It In This Life Of Ours That Men Have To Suffer For Each Other's Sins, So Inevitably Diffusive Is Human Suffering, That Even Justice Makes Its Victims, And We Can Conceive No Retribution That Does Not Spread Beyond Its Mark In Pulsations Of Unmerited Pain.

Blows Are Sarcasms Turned Stupid.

No Compliment Can Be Eloquent, Except As An Expression Of Indifference.