All We Do Is To Look After

Pride Dwells In The Thought; The Tongue Can Have But A Very Little Share In It.

I Do Not Understand; I Pause; I Examine.

There Is More Ado To Interpret Interpretations Than To Interpret Things, And More Books Upon Books Than Upon Any Other Subject; We Do Nothing But Comment Upon One Another. Every Place Swarms With Commentaries; Of Authors There Is Great Scarcity.

As Soon As Women Become Ours We Are No Longer Theirs.

We Are Never Present With, But Always Beyond Ourselves; Fear, Desire, Hope, Still Push Us On Toward The Future.