Praises for our past triumphs are as feathers to a dead bird.

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.

Having read the inscriptions upon the tombstones of the great and little cemeteries, Wang Peng advised the Emperor to kill all the living and resurrect the dead.

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

There are those whose sole claim to profundity is the discovery of exceptions to the rules.

Avarice is fear sheathed in gold.

Praises for our past triumphs are as feathers to a dead bird.