He Who Sees Without Loving Is Only

It Is Death That Is The Guide Of Our Life, And Our Life Has No Goal But Death.

Is Not Every Action Of Hamlet Induced By A Fanatical Impulse, Which Tells Him That Duty Consists In Revenge Alone? And Dose It Need Superhuman Efforts To Recognize That Revenge Never Can Be Duty? I Say Again That Hamlet Thinks Much, But That He Is By No Means Wise.

Sacrifice May Be A Flower That Virtue Will Pluck On Its Road, But It Was Not To Gather This Flower That Virtue Set Forth On Its Travels.

We Are Never The Same With Others As When We Are Alone. We Are Different, Even When We Are In The Dark With Them.

I Count Only The Hours That Are Serene.