Where Life Is More Terrible

The Man Without A Navel Still Lives In Me.

Half Our Days We Pass In The Shadow Of The Earth; And The Brother Of Death Exacteth A Third Part Of Our Lives.

No One Should Approach The Temple Of Science With The Soul Of A Money Changer.

A Diamond, Which Is The Hardest Of Stones, Not Yielding Unto Steel, Emery Or Any Other Thing, Is Yet Made Soft By The Blood Of A Goat.

Whosoever Enjoys Not This Life, I Count Him But An Apparition, Though He Wear About Him The Sensible Affections Of Flesh. In These Moral Acceptions, The Way To Be Immortal Is To Die Daily.