It Is The Lives We Encounter That

I Have Seen Mad People, And I Have Known Some Who Were Quite Intelligent, Lucid, Even Clear-sighted In Every Concern Of Life, Except On One Point. They Could Speak Clearly, Readily, Profoundly On Everything; Till Their Thoughts Were Caught In The Breakers Of Their Delusions And Went To Pieces There, Were Dispersed And Swamped In That Furious And Terrible Sea Of Fogs And Squalls Which Is Called Madness.

Whatever One Wishes To Say, There Is One Noun Only By Which To Express It, One Verb Only To Give It Life, One Adjective Only Which Will Describe It. One Must Search Until One Has Discovered Them, This Noun, This Verb, This Adjective, And Never Rest Content With Approximations, Never Resort To Trickery, However Happy, Or To Vulgarism, In Order To Dodge The Difficulty.

Sometimes Our Thoughts Turn Back Toward A Corner In A Forest, Or The End Of A Bank, Or An Orchard Powdered With Flowers, Seen But A Single Time On Some Happy Day, Yet Remaining In Our Hearts And Leaving In Soul And Body An Unappeased Desire Which Is Not To Be Forgotten, A Feeling That We Have Just Rubbed Elbows With Happiness.

There Is Only One Good Thing In Life, And That Is Love. And How You Misunderstand It! How You Spoil It! You Treat It As Something Solemn Like A Sacrament, Or Something To Be Bought, Like A Dress.

Killing Is Decreed By Law But Nature Loves Eternal Youth. Whatever She Does, However Unconscious And Unfeeling The Act, She Seems To Cry Out: 'quick! Quick! Quick!' And The More She Destroys, The More She Is Renewed.