O Jealousy! Thou Magnifier Of

Everlastingly Chained To A Single Little Fragment Of The Whole, Man Himself Develops Into Nothing But A Fragment; Everlastingly In His Ear The Monotonous Sound Of The Wheel That He Turns, He Never Develops The Harmony Of His Being, And Instead Of Putting The Stamp Of Humanity Upon His Own Nature, He Becomes Nothing More Than The Imprint Of His Occupation Or Of His Specialized Knowledge.

To Live Is To Dream, And To Dream Pleasantly Is To Be Wise.

Futurity Is Impregnable To Mortal Ken: No Prayer Pierces Through Heaven's Adamantine Walls. Whether The Birds Fly Right Or Left, Whatever Be The Aspect Of The Stars, The Book Of Nature Is A Maze, Dreams Are A Lie, And Every Sign A Falsehood.

Art Is The Right Hand Of Nature.

Fate Always Wins, For Our Own Heart Within Us Imperiously Furthers Its Designs.