What can we say with certainty?
Tears are the silent language of grief.
The multitude of books is making us ignorant.
Our wretched species is so made that those who walk on the well-trodden path always throw stones at those who are showing a new road.
The darkness is at its deepest. Just before the sunrise.
The first step, my son, which one makes in the world, is the one on which depends the rest of our days.