Because Reason...is The Only Thing That Makes

In God There Is An Infinitude Of Things Which I Cannot Comprehend, Nor Possibly Even Reach In Any Way By Thought; For It Is The Nature Of The Infinite That My Nature, Which Is Finite And Limited, Should Not Comprehend It.

The Object Of Music Is A Sound. The End; To Delight, And Move Various Affections In Us.

Common Sense Is The Most Fairly Distributed Thing In The World, For Each One Thinks He Is So Well-endowed With It That Even Those Who Are Hardest To Satisfy In All Other Matters Are Not In The Habit Of Desiring More Of It Than They Already Have.

I Suppose Therefore That All Things I See Are Illusions; I Believe That Nothing Has Ever Existed Of Everything My Lying Memory Tells Me. I Think I Have No Senses. I Believe That Body, Shape, Extension, Motion, Location Are Functions. What Is There Then That Can Be Taken As True? Perhaps Only This One Thing, That Nothing At All Is Certain.

Your Joy Is Your Sorrow Unmasked. And The Self-same Well From Which Your Laughter Rises Was Often-times Filled With Your Tears.