There Is No Soul That Does Not

All Our Knowledge Merely Helps Us To Die A More Painful Death Than Animals That Know Nothing.

To Be Good We Must Needs Have Suffered; But Perhaps It Is Necessary To Have Caused Suffering Before We Can Become Better.

Is Not Every Action Of Hamlet Induced By A Fanatical Impulse, Which Tells Him That Duty Consists In Revenge Alone? And Dose It Need Superhuman Efforts To Recognize That Revenge Never Can Be Duty? I Say Again That Hamlet Thinks Much, But That He Is By No Means Wise.

Brave Old-flowers! Wall-flowers, Gilly Flowers, Stocks! For Even As The Field-flowers, From Which A Trifle, A Ray Of Beauty, A Drop Of Perfume, Divides Them, They Have Charming Names, The Softest In The Language; And Each Of Them, Like Tiny, Art-less Ex-votos, Or Like Medals Bestowed By The Gratitude Of Men, Proudly Bears Three Or Four.

To Have Known How To Change The Past Into A Few Saddened Smiles-is This Not To Master The Future?