The Noble Soul Reveres Itself

The World Is Beautiful, But Has A Disease Called Man.

People Live For The Morrow, Because The Day-after-to-morrow Is Doubtful.

The Ability To Suffer Is A Small Matter - Weak Women And Even Slaves Can Acheive Virtuosity In That.

In The End Things Must Be As They Are And Have Always Been--the Great Things Remain For The Great, The Abysses For The Profound, The Delicacies And Thrills For The Refined, And, To Sum Up Shortly, Everything Rare For The Rare.

We Are So Fond Of Being Out Among Nature, Because It Has No Opinions About Us.