An anthill increases by accumulation. Medicine is consumed by distribution. That which is feared lessens by association. This is the thing to understand.

I could not possibly count the gold-digging ruses of women, Not if I had ten mouths, not if I had ten tongues.

No man provokes me with impunity.

The end doesn't justify the means.

I hate a woman who offers herself because she ought to do so, and cold and dry thinks of her sewing when making love.

Like fragile ice anger passes away in time.

There is a deity within us who breathes that divine fire by which we are animated.