In April 1882 My Father

Anyone Who Realises What Love Is, The Dedication Of The Heart, So Profound, So Absorbing, So Mysterious, So Imperative, And Always Just In The Noblest Natures So Strong, Cannot Fail To See How Difficult, How Tragic Even, Must Often Be The Fate Of Those Whose Deepest Feelings Are Destined From The Earliest Days To Be A Riddle And A Stumbling-block, Unexplained To Themselves, Passed Over In Silence By Others.

Let Your Mind Be Quiet, Realizing The Beauty Of The World, And The Immense Boundless Treasures That It Holds.

What Is The Good Of Life If Its Chief Element, And That Which Must Always Be Its Chief Element, Is Odious? No, The Only True Economy Is To Arrange So That Your Daily Labor Shall Be Itself A Joy.

I Was In The Square At The Time. The Crowd Was A Most Good-humoured, Easy Going, Smiling Crowd; But Presently It Was Transformed. A Regiment Of Mounted Police Came Cantering Up.

I Might Have Simply Settled Down Into An Armchair Literary Life. I Really Don't Know Exactly Why I Didn't.