Thoughts Fly And Words Go On Foot.

I Have Always Thought That By Observing Things With A Great Deal Of Attention You Eventually Wrest Some Of Their Secrets From Them, Making Them Utter What They Would Most Like To Keep To Themselves.

Yesterday, Happiness Came In Suddenly, As It Used To, And Remained For A Moment In The Great, Dark, Silent Drawing Room.

Anti-clericalism And Non-belief, Have Their Bigots Just As Orthodoxy Does.

Our Life Is A Book That Writes Itself And Whose Principal Themes Sometimes Escape Us. We Are Like Characters In A Novel Who Do Not Always Understand What The Author Wants Of Them.

Within Ourselves Is Not Very Far And Yet It Is So Far That One's Whole Life Is Not Always Long Enough To Get There.