It Is Human Nature To

Youth Is The Season Of Tragedy And Despair. Youth Is The Time When One's Whole Life Is Entangled In A Web Of Identity, In A Perpetual Maze Of Seeking And Of Finding, Of Passion And Of Disillusion, Of Vague Longings And Of Nameless Griefs, Of Pity That Is A Blade In The Heart, And Of 'all The Little Emptiness Of Love.

The Nearer She Came To Death, The More, By Some Perversity Of Nature, Did She Enjoy Living.

Happiness Is A Hardy Annual.

There Is In Every Human Being, I Think, A Native Country Of The Mind, Where, Protected By Inaccessible Barriers, The Sensitive Dream Life May Exist Safely.

There Is No Support So Strong As The Strength That Enables One To Stand Alone.