Youth Without Faith Is A Day Without

Love, The One Supreme, Unceasing Source Of Human Felicity, The One Sole Joy Which Lifts The Whole Mortal Existence Into The Empyrean, Was By It [christianity] Degraded Into The Mere Mechanical Action Of Reproduction.

Fame Nowadays Is Little Else But Notoriety.

It Is The North Wind That Lashes Men Into Vikings; It Is The Soft, Luscious South Wind Which Lulls Them To Lotus Dreams.

Belief Of Some Sort Is The Lifeblood Of Art.

When One Has Not Father, Or Mother, Or Brother, And All One's Friends Have Barely Bread Enough For Themselves, Life Cannot Be Very Easy, Nor Its Crusts Very Many At Any Time.