Is not cant the materia prima of the devil, from which all falsehoods, imbecilities, abominations, body themselves, from which no true thing can come? For cant is itself the properly a double-distilled lie, the second power of a lie.

Stop a moment, cease your work, and look around you.

O poor mortals, how ye make this earth bitter for each other.

We are not altogether here to tolerate. We are here to resist, to control and vanquish withal.

Lord Bacon could as easily have created the planets as he could have written Hamlet.

Goethe's devil is a cultivated personage and acquainted with the modern sciences; sneers at witchcraft and the black art even while employing them, and doubts most things, nay, half disbelieves even his own existence.

For, strictly considered, what is all Knowledge too but recorded Experience, and a product of History; of which, therefore, Reasoning and Belief, no less than Action and Passion, are essential materials?