Man Is Almost Always As

In All Climates, Under All Skies, Man's Happiness Is Always Somewhere Else.

The Artisan Or Scientist Or The Follower Of Whatever Discipline Who Has The Habit Of Comparing Himself Not With Other Followers But With The Discipline Itself Will Have A Lower Opinion Of Himself, The More Excellent He Is.

The Most Solid Pleasure In This Life Is The Empty Pleasure Of Illusion.

That Is Why All Great Men Are Modest: They Consistently Measure Themselves Not In Comparison To Other People But To The Idea Of Perfection Ever Present In Their Minds, An Ideal Infinitely Clearer And Greater Than Any Common People Have, And They Also Realize How Far They Are From Fulfilling Their Ideal.

Rest Forever, Tired Heart. The Final Illusion Has Perished. The One We Believed Eternal Is Gone. Just Like That. Out The Door Desire Follows Hope. Rest Forever. Enough Throbbing. Nothing Deserves Your Attention Nor Is The Earth Worth A Sigh. Bitterness And Boredom Is Life, Nothing Else Ever, And The World Is Mud. Quiet Now. Despair For The Last Time. Fate Gives Us Dying As A Gift. Now Turn From The Hills, The Ugly Hidden Power Which Rules For The Common Evil And The Infinite Vanity Of It All.