What A Gloomy Thing, Not To Know

There Are Souls Which, Crab-like, Crawl Continually Toward Darkness, Going Back In Life Rather Than Advancing In It, Using What Experience They Have To Increase Their Deformity, Growing Worse Without Ceasing, And Becoming Steeped More And More Thoroughly In An Intensifying Wickedness.

Everything Being A Constant Carnival, There Is No Carnival Left.

To Be Wicked Does Not Insure Prosperity - For The Inn Did Not Succeed Well.

Progress Is The Life-style Of Man.

When The Heart Is Dry The Eye Is Dry.