Philosophers Are As Jealous As Women; Each

The Mind Of The Renaissance Was Not A Pilgrim Mind, But A Sedentary City Mind, Like That Of The Ancients.

Our Knowledge Is A Torch Of Smoky Pine That Lights The Pathway But One Step Ahead Across A Void Of Mystery And Dread.

Perhaps The Universe Is Nothing But An Equilibrium Of Idiocies.

Oxford, The Paradise Of Dead Philosophies.

Character Is The Basis Of Happiness And Happiness The Sanction Of Character.