Belief Of Some Sort Is

The Loss Of Our Illusions Is The Only Loss From Which We Never Recover.

Genius Cannot Escape The Taint Of Its Time More Than A Child The Influence Of Its Begetting.

It Is Hard Work To Be Good When You Are Very Little And Very Hungry, And Have Many Sticks To Beat You, And No Mother's Lips To Kiss You.

There Is No Knife That Cuts So Sharply And With Such Poisoned Blade As Treachery.

Hypocrites Weep, And You Cannot Tell Their Tears From Those Of Saints; But No Bad Man Ever Laughed Sweetly Yet.