If you wish to strive for peace of soul and pleasure, then believe.

Write . . . write . . . pencil . . . paper.

The devil take these people and their language! They take a dozen monosyllabic words in their jaws, chew them, crunch them and spit them out again, and call that speaking. Fortunately they are by nature fairly silent, and although they gaze at us open-mouthed, they spare us long conversations.

Since the Exodus, freedom has always spoken with a Hebrew accent.

There, where one burns books... one, in the end, burns men.

Like a great poet, Nature produces the greatest results with the simplest means. These are simply a sun, trees, flowers, water and love. Of course, if the spectator be without the last, the whole will present but a pitiful appearance, and in that case, the sun is merely so many miles in diameter, the trees are good for fuel, the flowers are classified by stamens, and the water is simply wet.

Where books are burnt, men finish up being burnt too.