One Has No Right To Form Ideals

Perhaps The Old Monks Were Right When They Tried To Root Love Out; Perhaps The Poets Are Right When They Try To Water It. It Is A Blood-red Flower, With The Color Of Sin; But There Is Always The Scent Of A God About It.

When The Curtain Falls No One Is Ready

No Good Work Is Ever Done While The Heart Is Hot And Anxious And Fretted.

My Feeling Is That There Is Nothing In Life But Refraining From Hurting Others, And Comforting Those Who Are Sad.

The Surest Sign Of Fitness Is Success.