Everybody strains after happiness, and the result is that nobody's happy.
Thought must be divided against itself before it can come to any knowledge of itself.
Thought is barred in this City of Dreadful Joy and conversation is unknown.
Orthodoxy is the diehard of the world of thought. It learns not, neither can it forget.
A type of revolutionary novelty may be extremely beautiful in itself; but, for the creatures of habit that we are, its very novelty tends to make it illegible, at any rate to begin with.
You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you mad.