Only Among People Who Think No Evil

If You Are Losing Your Leisure, Look Out! You Are Losing Your Soul.

What Things There Are To Write, If One Could Only Write Them! My Mind Is Full Of Gleaming Thought; Gay Moods And Mysterious, Moth-like Meditations Hover In My Imagination, Fanning Their Painted Wings. But Always The Rarest, Those Streaked With Azure And The Deepest Crimson, Flutter Away Beyond My Reach.

What Humbugs We Are, Who Pretend To Live For Beauty, And Never See The Dawn!

What Joy Can The Years Bring Half So Sweet As The Unhappiness They've Taken Away?

Most People Sell Their Souls, And Live With A Good Conscience On The Proceeds.