The Cynic, A Parasite Of Civilization, Lives

Life Is The External Text, The Burning Bush By The Edge Of The Path From Which God Speaks.

He [the "specialist"] Is One Who, Out Of All That Has To Be Known In Order To Be A Man Of Judgment, Is Only Acquainted With One Science, And Even Of That One Only Knows The Small Corner In Which He Is An Active Investigator. He Even Proclaims It As A Virtue That He Takes No Cognisance Of What Lies Outside The Narrow Territory Specially Cultivated By Himself, And Gives The Name Of "dilettantism" To Any Curiosity For The General Scheme Of Knowledge.

Our Firmest Convictions Are Apt To Be The Most Suspect; They Mark Our Limitations And Our Bounds. Life Is A Petty Thing Unless It Is Moved By The Indomitable Urge To Extend Its Boundaries.

We Have Not Reached Ethical Perfection In Hunting. One Never Achieves Perfection In Anything, And Perhaps It Exists Precisely So That One Can Never Achieve It. Its Purpose Is To Orient Our Conduct And To Allow Us To Measure The Progress Accomplished. In This Sense, The Advancement Achieved In The Ethics Of Hunting Is Undeniable.

The Good Is, Like Nature, An Immense Landscape In Which Man Advances Through Centuries Of Exploration.