There Is No Subject So Old That

On Our Earth We Can Only Love Withsuffering And Through Suffering.

Love Children Especially, For They Too Are Sinless Like The Angels; They Live To Soften And Purify Our Hearts And, As It Were, To Guide Us.

The Jealous Are The Readiest Of All To Forgive, And All Women Know It.

Shower On Him Every Blessing, Drown Him In A Sea Of Happiness, Give Him Economic Prosperity Such That He Should Have Nothing Else To Do But Sleep, Eat Cakes, And Busy Himself With The Continuation Of The Species, And Even Then, Out Of Sheer Ingratitude, Sheer Spite, Man Would Play You Some Nasty Trick.

There Is Something At The Bottom Of Every New Human Thought, Every Thought Of Genius, Or Even Every Earnest Thought That Springs Up In Any Brain, Which Can Never Be Communicated To Others, Even If One Were To Write Volumes About It And Were Explaining One's Idea For Thirty-five Years; There's Something Left Which Cannot Be Induced To Emerge From Your Brain, And Remains With You Forever; And With It You Will Die, Without Communicating To Anyone Perhaps The Most Important Of Your Ideas.