How Glorious It Is - And Also

If You Are Weak, Dependent Upon Others, Inclined To Allow Yourself To Be Dominated By Opinion, To Take Root Wherever You See A Little Soil, Make For Yourself A Shield That Will Resist Everything, For If You Yield To Your Weaker Nature You Will Not Grow, You Will Dry Up Like A Dead Plant, And You Will Bear Neither Fruit Nor Flowers.

One Must Not Trifle With Love

It Was One Of Those Somber Evenings When The Sighing Of The Wind Resembles The Moans Of A Dying Man; A Storm Was Brewing, And Between The Splashes Of Rain On The Windows There Was The Silence Of Death. All Nature Suffers In Such Moments; The Trees Writhe In Pain And Twist Their Heads; The Birds Of The Fields Cower Under The Bushes; The Streets Of Cities Are Deserted.

I See That You Believe In Love Such As The Poets And Romancers Have Represented... The Poets Represent Love As The Sculptors Design Beauty, As The Musicians Create Melody; That Is To Say, Endowed With An Exquisite Nervous Organization, They Gather Up With Discerning Ardor The Purest Elements Of Life, The Most Beautiful Lines Of Matter, And The Most Harmonious Voices Of Nature.... To Try To Find In Real Life Such Love As This, Eternal And Absolute, Is The Same Thing As To Seek On The Public Squares Such A Woman As Venus Or To Expect Nightingales To Sing The Symphonies Of Beethoven.

I Have Come Too Late Into A World Too Old.