The Highest Problem Of Any Art Is

What Sort Of Faults May We Retain, Nay, Even Cherish In Ourselves? Those Faults Which Are Rather Pleasant Than Offensive To Others.

Nothing Is More Odious Than The Majority, For It Consists Of A Few Powerful Leaders, A Certain Number Of Accommodating Scoundrels And Submissive Weaklings, And A Mass Of Men Who Trot After Them Without Thinking, Or Knowing Their Own Minds.

Of The Book Of Books Most Wondrous Is The Tender Book Of Love.

The Primal Plant Is Going Be The Strangest Creature In The World, Which Nature Herself Must Envy Me. With This Model And The Key To It, It Will Be Possible To Go On For Ever Inventing Plants And Know That Their Existence Is Logical; That Is To Say, If They Do Not Actually Exist, They Could, For They Are Not The Shadowy Phantoms Of A Vain Imagination, But Possess An Inner Necessity And Truth. The Same Law Will Be Applicable To All Other Living Organisms.

The Soul Is Indestructible And Its Activity Will Continue Through Eternity. It Is Like The Sun, Which, To Our Eyes, Seems To Set At Night; But It Has In Reality Only Gone To Diffuse Its Light Elsewhere.