If I Owe Smith Ten Dollars And

We Are Not Accountable For The Sins Of "adam".

The Old Man Has Been Long At The Fair. He Is Acquainted With The Jugglers At The Booths. His Curiosity Has Been Satisfied. He No Longer Cares For The Exceptional, The Monstrous, The Marvelous And Deformed. He Looks Through And Beyond The Gilding, The Glitter And Gloss, Not Only Of Things, But Of Conduct, Of Manners, Theories, Religions And Philosophies. He Sees Clearer. The Light No Longer Shines In His Eyes.

To Know That The Bible Is The Literature Of A Barbarous People, To Know That It Is Uninspired, To Be Certain That The Supernatural Does Not And Cannot Exist - All This Is But The Beginning Of Wisdom.

Reason Is The Light, The Sun Of The Brain. It Is The Compass Of The Mind, The Ever-constant Northern Star, The Mountain Peak That Lifts Itself Above All Clouds.

The Man Who Accepts Opinions Because They Have Been Entertained By Distinguished People, Is A Mental Snob.