We Are Given Up To Those Gods,

Let Us Study Things That Are No More. It Is Necessary To Understand Them, If Only To Avoid Them.

Symmetry Is Tedious, And Tedium Is The Very Basis Of Mourning. Despair Yawns.

Sublime Upon Sublime Scarcely Presents A Contrast, And We Need A Little Rest From Everything, Even The Beautiful.

Every Man Is A Book In Which God Himself Writes.

The Paradise Of The Rich Is Made Out Of The Hell Of The Poor.