If You Love Yourself Meanly, Childishly, Timidly,

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

Wisdom Requires No Form; Her Beauty Must Vary, As Varies The Beauty Of Flame. She Is No Motionless Goddess, For Ever Couched On Her Throne.

He Who Sees Without Loving Is Only Straining His Eyes In The Darkness.

When We Lose One We Love, Our Bitterest Tears Are Called Forth By The Memory Of Hours When We Loved Not Enough.

The Future Is A World Limited By Ourselves; In It We Discover Only What Concerns Us And, Sometimes, By Chance, What Interests Those Whom We Love The Most.