I am Theophrastus, and greater than those to whom you liken me; I am Theophrastus, and in addition I am monarcha medicorum and I can prove to you what you cannot prove...I need not don a coat of mail or a buckler against you, for you are not learned or experienced enough to refute even a word of mine...As for you, you can defend your kingdom with belly-crawling and flattery. How long do you think this will last?...Let me tell you this: every little hair on my neck knows more than you and all your scribes, and my shoe buckles are more learned than your Galen and Avicenna, and my beard has more experience than all your high colleges.

— Paracelsus

someone's got to do what's right

Tiendo hacia las lenguas secretas, dominado por sintagmas oscuros. Con un alfabeto impío encadeno la ficción del alma propia, la decapito con el filo de la prisca sapientia.

que ni me pertenece, ni conozco, ni tengo derecho a tocar.

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Prone to secret languages, mastered by dark sintagma. With an impious alphabet I chain the fiction of the own soul, I behead it with the prisca sapientia's edge.

that neither is my own, nor I know, nor I have the right to touch.