Our Moods Do Not Believe In Each

Every Moment Instructs, And Every Object; For Wisdom Is Infused Into Every Form. It Has Been Poured Into Us As Blood; It Convulsed Us As Pain; It Slid Into Us As Pleasure; It Enveloped Us In Dull, Melancholy Days, Or In Days Of Cheerful Labor; We Did Not Guess Its Essence Until After Long Time.

It Is About Your Outlook Towards Life. You Can Either Regret Or Rejoice.

All Sensible People Are Selfish, And Nature Is Tugging At Every Contract To Make The Terms Of It Fair.

What You Are Comes To You.

We Know Truth When We See It, From Opinion, As We Know When We Are Awake That We Are Awake.