Don't say things. What you are stands over you the while, and thunders so that I cannot hear what you say to the contrary.

Who you are speaks so loudly I can't hear what you're saying.

No book was ever written down by any but itself.

Let no one honour me with tears, or bury me with lamentation. Why? Because I fly hither and thither, living in the mouths of me. [Lat., Nemo me lacrymis decoret, nec funera fletu. Faxit cur? Volito vivu' per ora virum.]

Who you are speaks so loudly I can't hear what you're saying.

The solar system has no anxiety about its reputation