The World Is Always Childish, And With

We Are Adapted To Infinity. We Are Hard To Please, And Love Nothing Which Ends: And In Nature Is No End; But Every Thing, At The End Of One Use, Is Lifted Into A Superior, And The Ascent Of These Things Climbs Into Daemonic And Celestial Natures.

For This Present, Hard Is The Fortune Of The Bard, Born Out Of Time; All His Accomplishment, From Nature's Utmost Treasure Spent, Booteth Not Him.

What Is The Hardest Task In The World? To Think.

Knowledge Is The Knowing That We Cannot Know.

It Is God In You That Responds To God Without, Or Affirms His Own Words Trembling On The Lips Of Another.