And there are loners in rural communities who, at the equinox, are said to don new garments and stroll down to the cities, where great beasts await them, fat and docile.

And the fat of the beast that dieth of itself, and the fat of that which is torn with beasts, may be used in any other use: but ye shall in no wise eat of it.

Fear of error which everything recalls to me at every moment of the flight of my ideas, this mania for control, makes men prefer reason's imagination to the imagination of the senses. And yet it is always the imagination alone which is at work.

Can the knowledge deriving from reason even begin to compare with knowledge perceptible by sense?

Light is meaningful only in relation to darkness, and truth presupposes error. It is these mingled opposites which make it pungent, intoxicating. We only exist in terms of this conflict, in the zone where black and white clash.

Error is certainty's constant companion. Error is the corollary of evidence. And anything said about truth may equally well be said about error: the delusion will be no greater.