The Art Of Writing Is Mysterious, The

While We Are Asleep In This World, We Are Awake In Another One

We Forget That We Are All Dead Men Conversing With Dead Men.

The Machinery Of The World Is Far Too Complex For The Simplicity Of Men.

There Is No Exercise Of The Intellect Which Is Not, In The Final Analysis, Useless. A Philosophical Doctrine Begins As A Plausible Description Of The Universe; With The Passage Of The Years It Becomes A Mere Chapter If Not A Paragraph Or A Name In The History Of Philosophy.

No One Is Anyone, One Single Immortal Man Is All Men. Like Cornelius Agrippa, I Am God, I Am Hero, I Am Philosopher, I Am Demon And I Am World, Which Is A Tedious Way Of Saying That I Do Not Exist.