We Are The Buffoons Of

Anger Represents A Certain Power, When A Great Mind, Prevented From Executing Its Own Generous Desires, Is Moved By It.

The Art Of War Is Like The Art Of The Courtesan; Indeed They Might Be Called Sisters, Since Both Are Slaves Of Desperation.

I Love You, And Because I Love You, I Would Sooner Have You Hate Me For Telling You The Truth Than Adore Me For Telling You Lies.

Nature Without Exercise Is A Seed Shut Up In A Pod, And Art Without Practice Is Nothing.

Why Should The Eyes Be Denied What Delights Them Most?