The Desire To Conquer Is Itself A

We Have All Our Secret Sins; And If We Knew Ourselves We Should Not Judge Each Other Harshly.

A Blush Is No Language; Only A Dubious Flag - Signal Which May Mean Either Of Two Contradictories

The Wrong That Rouses Our Angry Passions Finds Only A Medium In Us; It Passes Through Us Like A Vibration, And We Inflict What We Have Suffered.

The Poverty Of Our Imagination Is No Measure Of Say The World's Resources. Our Posterity Will No Doubt Get Fuel In Ways That We Are Unable To Devise For Them.

If I Could Only Fancy Myself Clever, It Would Be Better, But To Be A Failure Of Nature And To Know It Is Not A Comfortable Lot. It Is The Last Lesson One Learns, To Be Contented With One's Inferiority -- But It Must Be Learned.