There Are Few Men Who Know How

Nothing Can Be Said: Nothing Sure, Nothing Probable, Nothing Honest. Better To Err Through Omission Than Through Commission: Better To Refrain From Steering The Fate Of Others, Since It Is Already So Difficult To Navigate One's Own.

In Order For The Wheel To Turn, For Life To Be Lived, Impurities Are Needed, And The Impurities Of Impurities In The Soil, Too, As Is Known, If It Is To Be Fertile. Dissension, Diversity, The Grain Of Salt And Mustard Are Needed: Fascism Does Not Want Them, Forbids Them, And That's Why You're Not A Fascist; It Wants Everybody To Be The Same, And You Are Not. But Immaculate Virtue Does Not Exist Either, Or If It Exists It Is Detestable.

There Are Few Men Who Know How To Go To Their Deaths With Dignity, And Often They Are Not Those Whom One Would Expect.

At That Time I Had Not Yet Been Taught The Doctrine I Was Later To Learn So Hurriedly In The Lager: That Man Is Bound To Pursue His Own Ends By All Possible Means, While He Who Errs But Once Pays Dearly

For Me Chemistry Represented An Indefinite Cloud Of Future Potentialities Which Enveloped My Life To Come In Black Volutes Torn By Fiery Flashes, Like Those Which Had Hidden Mount Sinai. Like Moses, From That Cloud I Expected My Law, The Principle Of Order In Me, Around Me, And In The World... I Would Watch The Buds Swell In Spring, The Mica Glint In The Granite, My Own Hands, And I Would Say To Myself: "i Will Understand This, Too, I Will Understand Everything.