The Woman From The Depths Of Her

The Woman From The Depths Of Her Rags, A Waif, A Martyr — Smiled. She Must Have A Divine Heart To Be So Tired And Yet Smile.

Whatever Our Ignorance Left To Itself, And Whatever The Wounds That Other Human Beings Are, We Ought To Study Ourselves With A Sort Of Devotion.

I Believe, In Spite Of All, In Truth's Victory. I Believe In The Momentous Value, Hereafter Inviolable, Of Those Few Truly Fraternal Men In All The Countries Of The World, Who, In The Oscillation Of National Egoisms Let Loose, Stand Up And Stand Out, Steadfast As The Glorious Statues Of Right And Duty.

People Are Machines Of Forgetfulness

I Keep Remembering — I Keep Remembering. My Heart Has No Pity On Me.