The Slowness Of Time, For A Man

You Cannot Insult A Man More Atrociously Than By Refusing To Believe He Is Suffering .

We Do Not Remember Days, We Remember Moments.

The Man Who Cannot Live With Charity, Sharing Other Men's Pain, Is Punished By Feeling His Own With Intolerable Anguish.

The World, The Future, Is Now Within You As Your Past, As Experience, Skill In Technique, And The Rich, Everlasting Mystery Is Found To Be Childish You That, At The Time, You Made No Effort To Possess.

The Closing Years Of Life Are Like The End Of A Masquerade Party, When The Masks Are Dropped.