I Do Not Know If She Was

Oh Fair, Oh Sweet And Holy As Dew At Morning Tide, I Gaze On Thee, And Yearnings, Sad In My Bosom Hide.

We Know Only That Our Entire Existence Is Forced Into New Paths And Disrupted, That New Circumstances, New Joys And New Sorrows Await Us, And That The Unknown Has Its Uncanny Attractions, Alluring And At The Same Time Anguishing.

Immortality—dazzling Idea! Who First Imagined Thee! Was It Some Jolly Burgher Of Nuremburg, Who With Night-cap On His Head, And White Clay Pipe In Mouth, Sat On Some Pleasant Summer Evening Before His Door, And Reflected In All His Comfort, That It Would Be Right Pleasant, If, With Unextinguishable Pipe, And Endless Breath, He Could Thus Vegetate Onwards For A Blessed Eternity? Or Was It A Lover, Who In The Arms Of His Loved One, Thought The Immortality-thought, And That Because He Could Think And Feel Naught Beside!—love! Immortality!

Phychical Pain Is More Easily Borne Than Physical; And If I Had My Choice Between A Bad Conscience And A Bad Tooth, I Should Choose The Former.

Photography Is A Witness Against The Mistaken Opinion That Art Is An Imitation Of Nature.