Hurt, He'll Never Be Hurt--he's Made To

A Suppressed Resolve Will Betray Itself In The Eyes.

I Shall Never Love Anybody. I Can't Love People. I Hate Them.' 'the Time Will Come, Dear, The Time Will Come.

The World Is Full Of Hopeful Analogies And Handsome, Dubious Eggs, Called Possibilities.

If Youth Is The Season Of Hope, It Is Often So Only In The Sense That Our Elders Are Hopeful About Us; For No Age Is So Apt As Youth To Think Its Emotions, Partings, And Resolves Are The Last Of Their Kind. Each Crisis Seems Final, Simply Because It Is New. We Are Told That The Oldest Inhabitants In Peru Do Not Cease To Be Agitated By The Earthquakes, But They Probably See Beyond Each Shock, And Reflect That There Are Plenty More To Come.

It Is Strange How Deeply Colours Seem To Penetrate One, Like Scent.