There Is Only One Real Misfortune: To

Nothing Is Stranger Or More Ticklish Than A Relationship Between People Who Know Each Other Only By Sight, Who Meet And Observe Each Other Daily - No Hourly - And Are Nevertheless Compelled To Keep Up The Pose Of An Indifferent Stranger, Neither Greeting Nor Addressing Each Other, Whether Out Of Etiquette Or Their Own Whim.

This Was Love At First Sight, Love Everlasting: A Feeling Unknown, Unhoped For, Unexpected--in So Far As It Could Be A Matter Of Conscious Awareness; It Took Entire Possession Of Him, And He Understood, With Joyous Amazement, That This Was For Life.

All Interest In Disease And Death Is Only Another Expression Of Interest In Life.

Only Love, And Not Reason, Yields Kind Thoughts.

The Books And Magazines Streamed In. He Could Buy Them All, They Piled Up Around Him And Even While He Read, The Number Of Those Still To Be Read Disturbed Him. … They Stood In Rows, Weighing Down His Life Like A Possession Which He Did Not Succeed In Subordinating To His Personality.