...and Sank Into The Profound Slumber Which

A Word Aptly Uttered Or Written Cannot Be Cut Away By An Axe.

It Is Well-known That There Are Many Faces In The World Over The Finishing Of Which Nature Did Not Take Much Trouble, Did Not Employ Any Fine Tools Such As Files, Gimlets, And So On, But Simply Hacked Them Out With Round Strokes: One Chop-a Nose Appears; Another Chop-lips Appear; Eyes Are Scooped Out With A Big Drill; And She Lets It Go Into The World Rough-hewn, Saing: "alive!

What Are You Laughing At? You Are Laughing At Yourself.

...and Sank Into The Profound Slumber Which Comes Only To Such Fortunate Folk As Are Troubled Neither With Mosquitoes Nor Fleas Nor Excessive Activity Of Brain.

What Is Stronger In Us — Passion Or Habit? Or Are All The Violent Impulses, All The Whirl Of Our Desires And Turbulent Passions, Only The Consequence Of Our Ardent Age, And Is It Only Through Youth That They Seem Deep And Shattering?