Through The Ingenuousness Of Her Age Beamed

Be Happy, Noble Heart, Be Blessed For All The Good Thou Hast Done And Wilt Do Hereafter, And Let My Gratitude Remain In Obscurity Like Your Good Deeds.

In Politics, My Dear Fellow, You Know, As Well As I Do, There Are No Men, But Ideas — No Feelings, But Interests; In Politics We Do Not Kill A Man, We Only Remove An Obstacle, That Is All.

We’ll Go Where The Air Is Pure, Where All Sounds Are Soothing, Where, No Matter How Proud One May Be, One Feels Humble And Finds Oneself Small- In Short, We’ll Go To The Sea. I Love The Sea As One Loves A Mistress And I Long For Her When I Haven’t Seen Her For Some Time

Are There Not Some Places Where We Seem To Breathe Sadness? — Why, We Cannot Tell. It Is A Chain Of Recollections — An Idea Which Carries You Back To Other Times, To Other Places — Which, Very Likely, Have No Connection With The Present Time And Place.

It Is Not The Tree That Forsakes The Flower, But The Flower That Forsakes The Tree.