Happiness Comes The Way The Wind Blows.

Women Love Only Those Whom They Do Not Know!

I Was Modest--they Accused Me Of Being Crafty: I Became Secretive. I Felt Deeply Good And Evil--nobody Caressed Me, Everybody Offended Me: I Became Rancorous. I Was Gloomy--other Children Were Merry And Talkative. I Felt Myself Superior To Them--but Was Considered Inferior: I Became Envious. I Was Ready To Love The Whole World--none Understood Me: And I Learned To Hate.

I Love Enemies, Though Not In The Christian Way. They Amuse Me, Excite My Blood. Being Always On One’s Guard, Catching Every Glance, The Significance Of Every Word, Guessing At Intentions, Frustrating Their Plots, Pretending To Be Tricked, And Suddenly, With A Shove, Upturning The Whole Enormous And Arduously Built Edifice Of Their Cunning And Schemes—that’s What I Call Life.

What Of It? If I Die, I Die. It Will Be No Great Loss To The World, And I Am Thoroughly Bored With Life. I Am Like A Man Yawning At A Ball; The Only Reason He Does Not Go Home To Bed Is That His Carriage Has Not Arrived Yet.

Out Of Life's Storm I Carried Only A Few Ideas - And Not One Feeling.