Time Itself Is An Element.

This Being Busied With Thoughts Of Immortality Is For The Noble Classes And Especially For Women With Nothing To Do. A Solid Person, Though, Someone Who Already Intends To Be Something Worthy Here, And Who Therefore Has To Strive Daily, Has To Struggle And Work, Gives The World To Come A Rest.

Blood Is A Juice Of Rarest Quality. [ger., Blut Ist Ein Ganz Beondrer Saft.]

Distance... Is Like Futurity. A Dim Vastness Is Spread Before Our Souls; The Perceptions Of Our Mind Are As Obscure As Those Of Our Vision... But Alas! When We Have Attained Our Object, When The Distant 'there' Becomes The Present 'here,' All Is Changed; We Are As Poor And Circumscribed As Ever, And Our Souls Still Languish For Unattainable Happiness.

The Deepest, The Only Theme Of Human History, Compared To Which All Others Are Of Subordinate Importance, Is The Conflict Of Skepticism With Faith.

For Just When Ideas Fail, A Word Comes In To Save The Situation.