Solitude Has Soft, Silky Hands,

Because The Soul Is Like A Flower That Folds Its Petals When Dark Comes, And Breathes Not Its Fragrance Into The Phantoms Of The Night.

The Nearest To My Heart Are A King Without A Kingdom And A Poor Man Who Does Not Know How To Beg.

And All Knowledge Is Vain Save When There Is Work, And All Work Is Empty Save When There Is Love; And When You Work With Love You Bind Yourself To Yourself, And To One Another, And To God.

Should We All Confess Our Sins To One Another We Would All Laugh At One Another For Our Lack Of Originality

Perhaps A Man May Commit Suicide In Self-defense.