The Nighttime Of The Body Is The

I Have Seen That Every One Forgives Much In Themselves That They Find Unpardonable In Other People.

Events That Are Predestined Require But Little Management. They Manage Themselves. They Slip Into Place While We Sleep, And Suddenly We Are Aware That The Thing We Fear To Attempt, Is Already Accomplished.

All Changes Are More Or Less Tinged With Melancholy, For What We Are Leaving Behind Is Part Of Ourselves.

Human Relations Are Built On Feeling, Not On Reason Or Knowledge. And Feeling Is Not An Exact Science; Like All Spiritual Qualities, It Has The Vagueness Of Greatness About It.

But The Lover's Power Is The Poet's Power. He Can Make Love From All The Common Strings With Which This World Is Strung.