Upon My Word, I Think The Truth

It Belongs To Every Large Nature, When It Is Not Under The Immediate Power Of Some Strong Unquestioning Emotion, To Suspect Itself, And Doubt The Truth Of Its Own Impressions, Conscious Of Possibilities Beyond Its Own Horizon.

[it Is Easier] To Quell Emotion Than To Incur The Consequences Of Venting It.

Strange, That Some Of Us, With Quick Alternate Vision, See Beyond Our Infatuations, And Even While We Rave On The Heights, Behold The Wide Plain Where Our Persistent Self Pauses And Awaits Us.

Might, Could, Would - They Are Contemptible Auxiliaries.

Hatred Is Like Fire, It Makes Even Light Rubbish Deadly.