In People's Eyes I Readpages Of Malice

In Simple Hearts The Feeling For The Beauty And Grandeur Of Nature Is A Hundred-fold Stronger And More Vivid Than In Us, Ecstatic Composers Of Narratives In Words And On Paper.

The History Of A Man's Soul, Even The Pettiest Soul, Is Hardly Less Interesting And Useful Than The History Of A Whole People; Especially When The Former Is The Result Of The Observations Of A Mature Mind Upon Itself, And Has Been Written Without Any Egotistical Desire Of Arousing Sympathy Or Astonishment. Rousseau's Confessions Has Precisely This Defect – He Read It To His Friends.

It Is Sad To See A Young Man's Fondest Hopes And Dreams Shattered When The Rose-colured Veil Is Plucked Away And He Sees The Actions And Feelings Of Men For What They Are. But He Still Has The Hope Of Replacing His Old Illusions With Others, Just As Fleeting, But Also Just As Sweet.

What Is This Eternity To Me Without You? What Is The Infinity Of My Domains? Empty Ringing Words, A Spacious Temple - Without A Divinity!

We Practically Always Excuse Things When We Understand Them