There Is No Forgiveness In Nature.

If We Have Anything Kind To Say, Any Tender Sentiment To Express, We Feel A Sense Of Shame.

Sisterly Love Is, Of All Sentiments, The Most Abstract. Nature Does Not Grant It Any Functions.

Every Tiny Part Of Us Cries Out Against The Idea Of Dying, And Hopes To Live Forever.

We Cannot Bear To Regard Ourselves Simply As Playthings Of Blind Chance, We Cannot Admit To Feeling Ourselves Abandoned.

All Of Us Are Mad. If It Weren't For The Fact That Every One Of Us Is Slightly Abnormal, There Wouldn't Be Any Point In Giving Each Person A Separate Name.