The Parasites Live Where The Great Have

It Is, Indeed, A Fact That, In The Midst Of Society And Sociability Every Evil Inclination Has To Place Itself Under Such Great Restraint, Don So Many Masks, Lay Itself So Often On The Procrustean Bed Of Virtue, That One Could Well Speak Of A Martyrdom Of The Evil Man. In Solitude All This Falls Away. He Who Is Evil Is At His Most Evil In Solitude: Which Is Where He Is At His Best - And Thus To The Eye Of Him Who Sees Everywhere Only A Spectacle Also At His Most Beautiful.

I Love Him Who Maketh His Virtue His Inclination And Destiny: Thus, For The Sake Of His Virtue, He Is Willing To Live On, Or Live No More.

Because Men Really Respect Only That Which Was Founded Of Old And Has Developed Slowly, He Who Wants To Live On After His Death Must Take Care Not Only Of His Posterity But Even More Of His Past.

What Do We Have In Common With The Rosebud, Which Trembles Because A Drop Of Dew Lies On Its Body?

I Might Believe In The Redeemer If His Followers Looked More Redeemed.