There Is Only One Good Thing In

In The East Men Know Panic, But They Do Not Know What Fright Is.

How Weak Our Mind Is; How Quickly It Is Terrified And Unbalanced As Soon As We Are Confronted With A Small, Incomprehensible Fact. Instead Of Dismissing The Problem With: "we Do Not Understand Because We Cannot Find The Cause," We Immediately Imagine Terrible Mysteries And Supernatural Powers.

Whatever One Wishes To Say, There Is One Noun Only By Which To Express It, One Verb Only To Give It Life, One Adjective Only Which Will Describe It. One Must Search Until One Has Discovered Them, This Noun, This Verb, This Adjective, And Never Rest Content With Approximations, Never Resort To Trickery, However Happy, Or To Vulgarism, In Order To Dodge The Difficulty.

I Have Seen Mad People, And I Have Known Some Who Were Quite Intelligent, Lucid, Even Clear-sighted In Every Concern Of Life, Except On One Point. They Could Speak Clearly, Readily, Profoundly On Everything; Till Their Thoughts Were Caught In The Breakers Of Their Delusions And Went To Pieces There, Were Dispersed And Swamped In That Furious And Terrible Sea Of Fogs And Squalls Which Is Called Madness.

She Was The Temptress Who Had Ensnared The First Man, And Who Still Continued Her Work At Damnation; She Was The Being Who Is Feeble, Dangerous, Mysteriously Troubling. And Even More Than Her Body Of Perdition, He Hated Her Loving Soul.