The True is thus the Bacchanalian revel in which no member is not drunk.

Every individual is a child of his time; so philosophy too is its own time apprehended in thoughts. It is just as absurd to fancy that a philosophy can transcend its contemporary world as it is to fancy that an individual can overleap his own age, jump over Rhodes.

One can certainly wager that man would be erased, like a face drawn in sand at the edge of the sea.