For Souls In Growth, Great Quarrels Are

An Echo Of Music, A Face In The Street, The Wafer Of The New Moon, A Wanton Thought - Only In The Iridescence Of Things The Vagabond Soul Is Happy.

Those Who Talk On The Razor-edge Of Double-meanings Pluck The Rarest Blooms From The Precipice On Either Side.

Don't Laugh At Youth For His Affectations; He Is Only Trying On One Face After Another To Find His Own.

How Awful To Reflect That What People Say Of Us Is True!

It Is The Wretchedness Of Being Rich That You Have To Live With Rich People.