The Modern Masters Promise Very Little

How Mutable Are Our Feelings, And How Strange Is That Clinging Love We Have Of Life Even In The Excess Of Misery!

Truly Disappointment Is The Guardian Deity Of Human Life; She Sits At The Threshold Of Unborn Time, And Marshals The Events As They Come Forth.

In My Joy I Thrust My Hand Into The Live Embers, But Quickly Drew It Out With A Cry Of Pain. How Strange, I Thought That The Same Cause Should Produce Such Opposite Effects.

The World To Me Was A Secret, Which I Desired To Discover; To Her It Was A Vacancy, Which She Sought To People With Imaginations Of Her Own.

I Cherished Hope, It Is True, But It Vanished When My Person Reflected . . .