Though One Believes In Nothing,

Joy Is The Reflex Of Terror.

Let Us Say It Now: To Be Blind And To Be Loved, Is Indeed, Upon This Earth Where Nothing Is Complete, One Of The Most Strangely Exquisite Forms Of Happiness.

Great Griefs Exhaust. They Discourage Us With Life. The Man Into Whom They Enter Feels Something Taken From Him. In Youth, Their Visit Is Sad; Later On, It Is Ominous.

Man Does Not Understand Nor Accept Immortality Except On Condition Of Self-remembrance.

The Beautiful Is As Useful As The Useful." He Added After A Moment’s Silence, "perhaps More So.