It Is The Peculiarity Of Grief To

Need Is A Low Door Which, When We Must By Stern Necessity Pass Through, Forces The Greatest To Bend Down The Most.

Can Human Nature Ever Be Wholly And Radically Transformed? Can The Man Whom God Made Good Be Made Wicked By Man? Can The Soul Be Reshaped In Its Entirety By Destiny And Made Evil Because Destiny Is Evil? Can The Heart Become Misshapen And Afflicted With Ugly, Incurable Deformities Under Disproportionate Misfortune, Like A Spinal Column Bent Beneath A Too Low Roof?

To Put Everything In Balance Is Good, To Put Everything In Harmony Is Better.

Progress Is Not Accomplished In One Stage.

She Worked In Order To Live, And Presently Fell In Love, Also In Order To Live, For The Heart, Too, Has Its Hunger.