Pain Makes Hens And Poets Cackle.

Pardon Me, My Friends, I Have Ventured To Paint My Happiness On The Wall.

Vanity Is The Fear Of Appearing Original: It Is Thus A Lack Of Pride, But Not Necessarily A Lack Of Originality.

To Go On Vegetating In Cowardly Dependence On Physicians And Machinations, After The Meaning Of Life, The Right To Life, Has Been Lost, That Ought To Prompt A Profound Contempt In Society.

Who Can Attain To Anything Great If He Does Not Feel In Himself The Force And Will To Inflict Great Pain? The Ability To Suffer Is A Small Matter: In That Line, Weak Women And Even Slaves Often Attain Masterliness. But Not To Perish From Internal Distress And Doubt When One Inflicts Great Suffering And Hears The Cry Of It That Is Great, That Belongs To Greatness.

The Man Of Knowledge Must Be Able Not Only To Love His Enemies But Also To Hate His Friends.