M Is For Marx And

A Stone Lies In A River; A Piece Of Wood Is Jammed Against It; Dead Leaves, Drifting Logs, And Branches Caked With Mud Collect; Weeds Settle There, And Soon Birds Have Made A Nest And Are Feeding Their Young Among The Blossoming Water Plants. Then The River Rises And The Earth Is Washed Away. The Birds Depart, The Flowers Wither, The Branches Are Dislodged And Drift Downward; No Trace Is Left Of The Floating Island But A Stone Submerged By The Water; - Such Is Our Personality.

Whom The Gods Wish To Destroy They First Call Promising.

It Is The Fear Of Middle-age In The Young, Of Old-age In The Middle-aged, Which Is The Prime Cause Of Infidelity, That Infallible Rejuvenator.

Hate Is The Consequence Of Fear; We Fear Something Before We Hate; A Child Who Fears Noises Becomes The Man Who Hates Them.

Vulgarity Is The Garlic In The Salad Of Charm.