Happiness Comes The Way The

We Practically Always Excuse Things When We Understand Them

I Was Modest--they Accused Me Of Being Crafty: I Became Secretive. I Felt Deeply Good And Evil--nobody Caressed Me, Everybody Offended Me: I Became Rancorous. I Was Gloomy--other Children Were Merry And Talkative. I Felt Myself Superior To Them--but Was Considered Inferior: I Became Envious. I Was Ready To Love The Whole World--none Understood Me: And I Learned To Hate.

Afraid Of Decision, I Buried My Finer Feelings In The Depths Of My Heart And They Died There.

We Almost Always Forgive Those We Understand.

I Was Born, So That The Whole World Could Be A Spectatorof My Triumph Or My Doom.