From What The Moderns Want, We Must

All Thinking Of The Religious Man Is Etymological, A Reduction Of All Concepts To The Original Intuition, To The Characteristic.

Without Poetry, Religion Becomes Obscure, False, And Malignant; Without Philosophy, Licentious In All Wantonness, And Lascivious To The Point Of Self-castration.

In England, Wit Is At Least A Profession, If Not An Art. Everything Becomes Professional There, And Even The Rogues Of That Islandare Pedants. So Are The "wits" There Too. They Introduce Into Reality Absolute Freedom Whose Reflection Lends A Romantic And Piquant Air To Wit, And Thus They Live Wittily; Hence Their Talent For Madness. They Die For Their Principles.

All The Great Truths Are Basically Trivial And So We Have To Find New Ways, Preferably Paradoxical Ways, Of Expressing Them, In Order To Keep Them From Falling Into Oblivion.

Nothing Is More Piquant Than When A Man Of Genius Possesses Mannerisms; Not So When They Possess Him -- This Leads To Spiritual Petrification.