History is the transformation of tumultuous conquerors into silent footnotes |
If we were brought to trial for the crimes we have committed against ourselves, few would escape the gallows |
In the spider-web of facts, many a truth is strangled. |
Jealousy would be far less torturous if we understood that love is a passion entirely unrelated to our merits. |
Man is ready to die for an idea, provided that idea is not quite clear to him |
Praises for our past triumphs are as feathers to a dead bird. |
Reading the epitaphs, our only salvation lies in resurrecting the dead and burying the living. |
There are those whose sole claim to profundity is the discovery of exceptions to the rules. |
We endeavor to stuff the universe into the gullet of an aphorism |
With the stones we cast at them, geniuses build new roads with them |