I Have No Name: I

The Man Who Pretends To Be A Modest Enquirer Into The Truth Of A Self-evident Thing Is A Knave.

Praises Reap Not! Joys Laugh Not! Sorrows Weep Not!

Nature In Darkness Groans And Men Are Bound To Sullen Contemplation In The Night: Restless They Turn On Beds Of Sorrow; In Their Inmost Brain Feeling The Crushing Wheels, They Rise, They Write The Bitter Words Of Stern Philosophy And Knead The Bread Of Knowledge With Tears And Groans.

Dip Him In The River Who Loves Water.

Mutual Forgiveness Of Each Vice. Such Are The Gates Of Paradise.