Modern man (n.) drags around a huge quantity of indigestible stones of knowledge, which can sometimes be heard rumbling inside him.
Modern man (n.) have nothing of their own; crammed with the ages, customs and religions of others, they become walking encyclopaedias — 'Handbook of inward culture for outward barbarians'.
Modern man (n.) stands on the pyramid of the world-process calling to nature 'we are the goal, we are nature perfected' — but his knowledge does not perfect nature, it only destroys his own.
Modern man (n.) is, to the eye, gaudy patches for the naked and freezing, a dance of seeming joy exacted from sufferers, haughty pride worn by one wounded to the depths — wholly appearance, concealed rather than shown by what he represents.
The Modern man (n.) who builds a house feels he is immuring himself alive in a mausoleum.
Modern man (n.) says "we are real entirely, without beliefs" — a painting of everything that has ever been believed, sterile and so unable to believe.
Modern man (n.) is multifarious, perhaps the most interesting chaos there has ever been: not the chaos before the creation of a world, but the one after.
Modern man (n.) adjusts his nature into a mirror: warmth and storm on a thin surface, a steady coolness just beneath — outward mobility over a deep weariness.