Imprisoned In Every Fat Man A Thin

The Refractory Pupil Of Socrates, Aristippus The Cyrene, Who Believed Happiness To Be The Sum Of Particular Pleasures And Golden Moments And Not, As Epicurus, A Prolonged Intermediary State Between Ecstasy And Pain.

A Great Writer Created A World Of His Own And His Readers Are Proud To Live In It. A Lesser Writer May Entice Them In For A Moment, But Soon He Will Watch Them Filing Out.

For What Is Liberty But The Unhampered Translation Of Will Into Act?

When I Contemplate The Accumulation Of Guilt And Remorse Which, Like A Garbage-can, I Carry Through Life, And Which Is Fed Not Only By The Lightest Action But By The Most Harmless Pleasure, I Feel Man To Be Of All Living Things The Most Biologically Incompetent And Ill-organized. Why Has He Acquired A Seventy Years Life-span Only To Poison It Incurably By The Mere Being Of Himself? Why Has He Thrown Conscience, Like A Dead Rat, To Putrefy In The Well?

No Taste Is So Acquired As That For Someone Else's Quality Of Mind.