Or have I passed my time in pouring words like water into empty sieves, rolling a stone up a hill and then down again, trying to prove an argument in the teeth of facts, and looking for causes in the dark, and not finding them?

That which is not, shall never be; that which is, shall never cease to be. To the wise, these truths are self-evident.

Experience makes us wise.

We do not see nature with our eyes, but with our understandings and our hearts.

Repose is as necessary in conversation as in a picture.

Conceit is vanity driven from all other shifts, and forced to appeal to itself for admiration.

Horus non numero nisi serenas (I count only the sunny hours).