All Our Efforts Must Tend

The Wind, One Brilliant Day, Called To My Soul With An Odor Of Jasmine. "in Return For The Odor Of My Jasmine, I'd Like All The Odor Of Your Roses." "i Have No Roses; All The Flowers In My Garden Are Dead." "well Then, I'll Take The Withered Petals And The Yellow Leaves And The Waters Of The Fountain." The Wind Left. And I Wept. And I Said To Myself: "what Have You Done With The Garden That Was Entrusted To You?

Wanderer, Your Footsteps Are The Road, And Nothing More; Wanderer, There Is No Road, The Road Is Made By Walking. By Walking One Makes The Road, And Upon Glancing Behind One Sees The Path. . .

Man's Passion For Truth Is Such That He Will Welcome The Bitterest Of All Postulates So Long As It Strikes Him As True.

Only A Fool Thinks Price And Value Are The Same.

Hell Is The Bloodcurdling Mansion Of Time, In Whose Profoundest Circle Satan Himself Waits, Winding A Gargantuan Watch In His Hand.