It does not seem likely that the First-principles of things will ever be known.

The mice that nestle in some little holes of an immense Building, know not whether it is eternal, or who the Architect, or why he built it.

Such mice are we; and the Divine Architect who built the Universe has never, that I know of, told his secret to one of us.

If anybody could pretend to guess correctly, it is M.Wolf." Beautiful in your Royal Highness to protect such a man.

And how beautiful it will be, to send me his chief Book, as you have the kindness to promise! "The Heir of a Monarchy, from his palace, attending to the wants of a recluse far off! Condescend to afford me the pleasure of that Book, Monseigneur....
"What your Royal Highness thinks of poetry is just: verses that do not teach men new and touching truths, do not deserve to be read." As to my own poor verses--But, after all, "that HENRIADE is the writing of an Honest Man: fit, in that sense, that it find grace with a Philosopher Prince.
"I will obey your commands as to sending those unpublished Pieces.