I Was In Darkness, But I Took

Whoever Thought That He Had Understood Something Of Me Had Merely Construed Something Out Of Me, After His Own Image.

One Does Not Only Wish To Be Understood When One Writes; One Wishes Just As Surely Not To Be Understood.

It Is The Privilege Of Greatness To Confer Intense Happiness With Insignificant Gifts.

A Friend Should Be A Master At Guessing And Keeping Still: You Must Not Want To See Everything.

What The Sense Feeleth, What The Spirit Discerneth, Hath Never Its End In Itself. But Sense And Spirit Would Fain Persuade Thee That They Are The End Of All Things: So Vain Are They.