In Every Real Man A

Never To Talk About Oneself Is A Very Refined Form Of Hypocrisy.

One Must Never Have Spared Oneself, One Must Have Acquired Hardness As A Habit To Be Cheerful And In Good Spirits In The Midst Of Nothing But Hard Truths.

It Is Our Needs That Interpret The World; Our Drives And Their For And Against. Every Drive Is A Kind Of Lust To Rule; Each One Has Its Perspective That It Would Like To Compel All Other Drives To Accept As A Norm.

In Intercourse With Scholars And Artists One Readily Makes Mistakes Of Opposite Kinds: In A Remarkable Scholar One Not Infrequently Finds A Mediocre Man; And Often, Even In A Mediocre Artist, One Finds A Very Remarkable Man.

The Parasites Live Where The Great Have Little Secret Sores.