When One Wishes To Play The Wit,

Defeat Is A Thing Of Weariness, Of Incoherence, Of Boredom, And Above All Futility.

I Know A Planet Where There Is A Certain Red-faced Gentleman. He Has Never Smelled A Flower. He Has Never Looked At A Star. He Has Never Loved Any One. He Has Never Done Anything In His Life But Add Up Figures. And All Day He Says Over And Over, Just Like You: 'i Am Busy With Matters Of Consequence!' And That Makes Him Swell Up With Pride. But He Is Not A Man - He Is A Mushroom!

Although Human Life Is Priceless, We Always Act As If Something Had An Even Greater Price Than Life... But What Is That Something?

I Wonder," He Said, "whether The Stars Are Set Alight In Heaven So That One Day Each One Of Us May Find His Own Again.

When Faith Burns Itself Out, 'tis God Who Dies And Thenceforth Proves Unavailing.