The motives of mankind are plainer than the motions they produce.

...because I rant not, neither rave of what I feel, can you be so shallow as to dream that I feel nothing?

Never question another man's motive. His wisdom, yes, but not his motives.

It's all about motive. Climbing up and climbing out look the same on the outside.

Why has mankind had such a craving to be imposed upon? Why this lust after imposing creeds, imposing deeds, imposing buildings, imposing language, imposing works of art? The thing becomes an imposition and a weariness at last. Give us things that are alive and flexible, which won't last too long and become an obstruction and a weariness. Even Michelangelo becomes at last a lump and a burden and a bore. It is so hard to see past him.

For there's nothing we read of in torture's inventions, Like a well-meaning dunce, with the best of intentions.