A Garden To Walk In

To Love Is The Half Of To Believe.

The Memory Of An Absent Person Shines In The Deepest Recesses Of The Heart, Shining The More Brightly The More Wholly Its Object Has Vanished: A Light On The Horizon Of The Despairing, Darkened Spirit; A Star Gleaming In Our Inward Night.

To Live A Life Which Is A Perpetual Falsehood Is To Suffer Unknown Tortures.

This First Glance Of A Soul Which Does Not Yet Know Itself Is Like Dawn In The Heavens; It Is The Awakening Of Something Radiant And Unknown.

How Frightened Hypocrisy Hastens To Defend Itself.