I Have Come Too Late Into A

The Soft Contralto Notes Of A Woman's Voice Are Born In The Immediate Region Of The Heart.

Man Is A Pupil, Pain Is His Teacher.

Life Is A Sleep, Love Is A Dream; And You Have Lived If You Have Loved.

The Life Of A Devotee Is A Crusade Of Which The Heart Is The Holy Land.

I Could Not Clearly Distinguish What Was Passing In My Head; It Seemed To Me That I Was Under The Influence Of A Horrible Dream And That I Had But To Awake To Find Myself Cured; At Times It Seemed That My Entire Life Had Been A Dream, Ridiculous And Childish, The Falseness Of Which Had Just Been Disclosed.