What is the truth, but a lie agreed upon.

But by my love and hope I beseech you: do not throw away the hero in your soul! Hold holy your highest hope!

Immature is the love of the youth, and immature his hatred of man and earth. His mind and the wings of his spirit are still tied down and heavy.

Only in war are you holy, and when you are robbers and cruel.

In the end one only experiences oneself.

The rising and falling of the scales of pride and humility sustain the brooding mind as well as the alternations of desire and peace of the soul.

Necessity is not an established fact, but an interpretation.