Love Of Truth, Ordinary Common Truth Recognizable

Labor Is Work That Leaves No Trace Behind It When It Is Finished, Or If It Does, As In The Case Of The Tilled Field, This Product Of Human Activity Requires Still More Labor, Incessant, Tireless Labor, To Maintain Its Identity As A 'work' Of Man.

All Ideas Advanced To Deal With The Florentine Noise Problem, The Florentine Traffic Problem, Are Utopian, And Nobody Believes In Them, Just As Nobody Believed In Machiavelli's Prince, A Utopian Image Of The Ideally Self-interested Despot.

The Idea Of Macbeth As A Conscience-torm Ented Man Is A Platitude As False As Macbeth Himself. Macbeth Has No Conscience. His Main Concern Throughout The Play Is That Most Selfish Of All Concerns: To Get A Good Night's Sleep.

Venice, As A City, Was A Foundling, Floating Upon The Waters Like Moses In His Basket Among The Bulrushes.

The Furniture And Trappings In The Apartment Are All In A State Of Flux - Here Today, Gone Tomorrow. Nothing Is Anchored To Its Place, Not Even The Coffee-pot, Which Floats Off And Returns, On The Tide Of The Signora's Marine Nature.