I Try To Decorate My Imagination As

The World Resembles A Stage On Which Every Man Is Playing A Part.

No One Really Understands The Grief Or Joy Of Another.

No One Really Understands The Grief Or Joy Of Another. We Always Imagine That We Are Approaching Some Other, But Our Lines Of Travel Are Actually Parallel.

I Am Composing Like A God, As If It Simply Had To Be Done As It Has Been Done.

Every Night When I Go To Bed, I Hope That I May Never Wake Again, And Every Morning Renews My Grief.