The Idealist Is Incorrigible: If

The Last Christian Died On A Cross.

Without Art We Would Be Nothing But Foreground And Live Entirely In The Spell Of That Perspective Which Makes What Is Closest At Hand And Most Vulgar Appear As If It Were Vast, And Reality Itself.

I Overcame Myself, The Sufferer; I Carried My Own Ashes To The Mountains; I Invented A Brighter Flame For Myself.

There Is No Pre-established Harmony Between The Furtherance Of Truth And The Well-being Of Mankind.

He Who Bears Injustice Alone Is Terrible To Behold.