I Do Not Think, Sir, You Have

Look Twice Before You Leap.

Presentiments Are Strange Things: And So Are Sympathies; And So Are Signs; And The Three Combined Make One Mystery To Which Humanity Has Not Yet Found The Key.

No Mockery In This World Ever Sounds To Me So Hollow As That Of Being Told To Cultivate Happiness. What Does Such Advice Mean? Happiness Is Not A Potato, To Be Planted In Mould, And Tilled With Manure. Happiness Is A Glory Shining Far Down Upon Us Out Of Heaven. She Is A Divine Dew Which The Soul, On Certain Of Its Summer Mornings, Feels Dropping Upon It From The Amaranth Bloom And Golden Fruitage Of Paradise.

I Hold Another Creed, Which No One Ever Taught Me, And Which I Seldom Mention, But In Which I Delight, And To Which I Cling, For It Extends Hope To All; It Makes Eternity A Rest - A Mighty Home, Not A Terror And An Abyss. Besides, With This Creed, I Can So Clearly Distinguish Between The Criminal And His Crime; I Can So Sincerely Forgive The First While I Abhor The Last; With This Creed, Revenge Never Worries My Heart, Degradation Never Too Deeply Disgusts Me, Injustice Never Crushes Me Too Low. I Live In Calm, Looking To The End.

I Can Live Alone, If Self-respect, And Circumstances Require Me So To Do. I Need Not Sell My Soul To Buy Bliss. I Have An Inward Treasure Born With Me, Which Can Keep Me Alive If All Extraneous Delights Should Be Withheld, Or Offered Only At A Price I Cannot Afford To Give.