There Are Big And Little Truths, But

The Books One Has Written In The Past Have Two Surprises In Store: One Couldn't Write Them Again, And Wouldn't Want To.

When I Was Young I Pitied The Old. Now Old, It Is The Young I Pity.

The Least One Can Say Of Power Is That A Vocation For It Is Suspicious.

Falsity Cannot Keep An Idea From Being Beautiful; There Are Certain Errors Of Such Ingenuity That One Could Regret Their Not Ranking Among The Achievements Of The Human Mind.

Kill One Man, And You Are Murderer.