You Cannot Dream Yourself Into A Character;

We Live Merely On The Crust Or Rind Of Things.

To Tell Men That They Cannot Help Themselves Is To Fling Them Into Recklessness And Despair.

There Is Always A Part Of Our Being Into Which Those Who Are Dearer To Us Far Than Our Own Lives Are Yet Unable To Enter.

It May Be From Some Moral Obliquity In Myself, Or From Some Strange Disease; But For Me, And I Should Think Too For Every Human Being In Whose Breast A Human Heart Is Beating, To Know That One Single Creature Is In That Dreadful Place Would Make A Hell Of Heaven Itself. And They Have Hearts In Heaven, For They Love There.

Truth Only Smells Sweet Forever, And Illusions, However Innocent, Are Deadly As The Canker Worm.