The Softness Of The Summer Day Like

Nature Forms Us For Ourselves, Not For Others; To Be, Not To Seem.

The Frenchman, By Nature, Is Sensuous And Sensitive. He Has Intelligence, Which Makes Him Tired Of Life Sooner Than Other Kinds Of Men. He Is Not Athletic: He Sees The Futility Of The Pursuit Of Fame; The Climate At Times Depresses Him.

I Was Stirred Only Like A Leaf In The Wind, That Is All. . .

I Made No Resolutions For The New Year. The Habit Of Making Plans, Of Criticizing, Sanctioning And Molding My Life, Is Too Much Of A Daily Event For Me.

One May Gain One Truth At The Expense Of Another.