Love Is Desire For Knowledge.

The Face Of The Night Will Be An Old Wound That Reopens Each Evening, Impassive And Living. The Distant Silence Will Ache Like A Soul, Mute, In The Dark. We'll Speak To The Night As It's Whispering Softly.

At Great Periods You Have Always Felt, Deep Within You, The Temptation To Commit Suicide. You Gave Yourself To It, Breached Your Own Defenses. You Were A Child. The Idea Of Suicide Was A Protest Against Life; By Dying, You Would Escape This Longing For Death.

Things Are Revealed Through The Memories We Have Of Them. Remembering A Thing Means Seeing It Only Then For The First Time.

The Man Who Cannot Live With Charity, Sharing Other Men's Pain, Is Punished By Feeling His Own With Intolerable Anguish.

It Is Not That Things Happen To Each Of Us According To His Fate, But That He Interprets What Has Happened, If He Has Power To Do So, According To His Sense Of His Own Destiny .