Avarice is fear sheathed in gold.

Reading the epitaphs, our only salvation lies in resurrecting the dead and burying the living.

We hew and saw and plane facts to make them dovetail with our prejudices, so that they become mere ornaments with which to parade our objectivity.

In the spider-web of facts, many a truth is strangled.

If we were brought to trial for the crimes we have committed against ourselves, few would escape the gallows.

It is not true that men prefer foolish women. Rather they prefer women who can simulate foolishness whenever necessary, which is the very core of intelligence.

Avarice is fear sheathed in gold.