Cruelty, I Truly Believe, Is The One

After All, You Can't Expect Men Not To Judge By Appearances.

There Is In Every Human Being, I Think, A Native Country Of The Mind, Where, Protected By Inaccessible Barriers, The Sensitive Dream Life May Exist Safely.

In The Past Few Years, I Have Made A Thrilling Discovery ... That Until One Is Over Sixty, One Can Never Really Learn The Secret Of Living. One Can Then Begin To Live, Not Simply With The Intense Part Of Oneself, But With One's Entire Being.

So Long As One Is Able To Pose One Has Still Much To Learn About Suffering.

Youth Is The Season Of Tragedy And Despair. Youth Is The Time When One's Whole Life Is Entangled In A Web Of Identity, In A Perpetual Maze Of Seeking And Of Finding, Of Passion And Of Disillusion, Of Vague Longings And Of Nameless Griefs, Of Pity That Is A Blade In The Heart, And Of 'all The Little Emptiness Of Love.