To Know Someone Here Or There With

With Knowledge Grows Doubt.

The Flowers Of Life Are But Visionary. How Many Pass Away And Leave No Trace Behind! How Few Yield Any Fruit,--and The Fruit Itself, How Rarely Does It Ripen! And Yet There Are Flowers Enough; And Is It Not Strange, My Friend, That We Should Suffer The Little That Does Really Ripen To Rot, Decay, And Perish Unenjoyed?

The Suffering May Be Moral Or Physical; And In My Opinion It Is Just As Absurd To Call A Man A Coward Who Destroys Himself, As To Call A Man A Coward Who Dies Of A Malignant Fever.

The World Is So Empty If One Thinks Only Of Mountains, Rivers And Cities; But To Know Someone Who Thinks And Feels With Us, And Who, Though Distant, Is Close To Us In Spirit, This Makes The Earth For Us An Inhabited Garden.

What Reason Would Grope For In Vain, Spontaneous Impulse Ofttimes Achieves At A Stroke, With Light And Pleasureful Guidance.