Why, Why, When One Writes, Does A

You Are Quite, Quite Wrong If You Think That ... I Find Your Happiness Painful. What Matters Is That Happiness - The Golden Day - Should Exist In The World, Not Much To Whom It Comes. For All Of Us It Is So Transitory A Thing, How Could One Not Draw Joy From Its Arrival?

This Alone Is To Be Feared - The Closed Mind, The Sleeping Imagination, The Death Of The Spirit. The Death Of The Body Is To That, I Think, A Little Thing.

Why Haven't We Seventy Lives? One Is No Use.

There's Never Been A Lack Of Men Willing To Die Bravely. The Trouble Is To Find A Few Able To Live Sensibly.

Sorrow And Frustration Have Their Power. The World Is Moved By People With Great Discontents. Happiness Is A Drug. It Can Make Men Blind And Deaf And Insensible To Reality. There Are Times When Only Sorrow Can Give To Sorrow.