The Last Christian Died On A Cross.

Truth Is Only An Illusion We Have Forgotten Is An Illusion.

Enjoyment And Innocence Are The Most Bashful Things: Both Do Not Want To Be Sought.

Let Them Like The Tibetans, Chew The Cud Of Their "om Mane Padme Hum" Innumerable Times, Or, As In Benares, Count The Name Of The God Ram-ram-ram (etc. With Or Without Charm) On Their Fingers; Or Honour Vishnu With His Thousand Names Of Invocation, Allah With His Ninety-nine; Or They May Make Use Of The Prayer-wheels And The Rosary: The Main Thing Is That They Are Settled Down For A Time At This Work And Are Tolerable To Look At. This Kind Of Prayer Has Been Invented For The Benefit Of The Pious Who Have Thought And Elevations Of Their Own.

Could Truth Perhaps Be A Woman Who Has Reasons For Not Permitting Her Reasons To Be Seen? Could Her Name Perhaps Be--to Speak Greek--baubo?... Oh, Those Greeks! They Understood How To Live: To Do That It Is Necessary To Stop Bravely At The Surface, The Fold, The Skin, To Adore The Appearance, To Believe In Forms, In Tones, In Words, In The Whole Olympus Of Appearance! Those Greeks Were Superficial--out Of Profundity!

Belief In Form, But Disbelief In Content - That's What Makes An Aphorism Charming.