It Is Useless To Tell One Not

Man's Love Is Of Man's Life A Part; It Is A Woman's Whole Existence. In Her First Passion, A Woman Loves Her Lover, In All The Others All She Loves Is Love.

If From Society We Learn To Live, Solitude Should Teach Us How To Die.

We Of The Craft Are All Crazy.

Have Not All Past Human Beings Parted, And Must Not All The Present, One Day Part?

I Live Not In Myself, But I Become Portion Of That Around Me: And To Me High Mountains Are A Feeling, But The Hum Of Human Cities Torture.