And Numerous Indeed Are The

When Men Are About To Commit, Or Sanction The Commission Of Some Injustice, It Is Not Uncommon For Them To Express Pity For The Object Either Of That Or Some Parallel Proceeding, And To Feel Themselves, At The Time, Quite Virtuous And Moral, And Immensely Superior To Those Who Express No Pity At All. This Is A Kind Of Upholding Of Faith Above Works, And Is Very Comfortable.

Ask No Questions, And You'll Be Told No Lies.

There Either Is Or Is Not, That’s The Way Things Are. The Colour Of The Day. The Way It Felt To Be A Child. The Saltwater On Your Sunburnt Legs. Sometimes The Water Is Yellow, Sometimes It’s Red. But What Colour It May Be In Memory, Depends On The Day. I’m Not Going To Tell You The Story The Way It Happened. I’m Going To Tell It The Way I Remember It.

Such Is The Influence Which The Condition Of Our Own Thoughts, Exercises, Even Over The Appearance Of External Objects. Men Who Look On Nature, And Their Fellow-men, And Cry That All Is Dark And Gloomy, Are In The Right; But The Sombre Colours Are Reflections From Their Own Jaundiced Eyes And Hearts. The Real Hues Are Delicate, And Need A Clearer Vision.

If Her Eyes Had No Expression, It Was Probably Because They Had Nothing To Express. If She Had Few Wrinkles, It Was Because Her Mind Had Never Traced Its Name Or Any Other Inscription On Her Face.