There Is Nothing That God Hates So

To Be Able To Share In Another's Joy, That Is The Secret Of Happiness.

What Does It Matter, All Is Grace.

Have You Never Been Moved By Poor Men's Fidelity, The Image Of You They Form In Their Simple Minds? Why Should You Always Talk Of Their Envy, Without Understanding That What They Ask Of You Is Not So Much Your Worldly Goods, As Something Very Hard To Define, Which They Themselves Can Put No Name To; Yet At Times It Consoles Their Loneliness; A Dream Of Splendor, Of Magnificence, A Tawdry Dream, A Poor Man's Dream -and Yet God Blesses It!

I Have Done No Passably Decent Job In This World Which Did Not At First Seem To Me Useless - Absurdly Useless, Useless To The Point Of Nausea. My Secret Demon Is Called:;: What's The Use?

What A Cunning Mixture Of Sentiment, Pity, Tenderness, Irony Surrounds Adolescence, What Knowing Watchfulness! Young Birds On Their First Flight Are Hardly So Hovered Around.