Envying Another Man's Happiness Is Madness; You

How Much More Sensuality Invites To Art Than Does Sentimentality.

The Want Of Logic Annoys. Too Much Logic Bores. Life Eludes Logic, And Everything That Logic Alone Constructs Remains Artificial And Forced.

Our Deeds Attach Themselves To Us Like The Flame To Phosphorus. They Constitute Our Brilliance, To Be Sure, But Only In So Far As They Consume Us.

One Doesn't Discover New Lands Without Consenting To Lose Sight, For A Very Long Time, Of The Shore.

It Is Better To Be Hated For What You Are Than To Be Loved For Something You Are Not.