We Need To Suffer, That

There Is No Existence So Content As That Whose Present Is Engrossed By Employment, And Whose Future Is Filled By Some Strong Hope, The Truth Of Which Is Never Proved. Toil And Illusion Are The Only Secrets To Make Life Tolerable.

Nothing Is So Fortunate For Mankind As Its Diversity Of Opinion.

Ah, Tell Me Not That Memory Sheds Gladness O'er The Past; What Is Recalled By Faded Flowers, Save That They Did Not Last? Were It Not Better To Forget, Than But Remember And Regret?

An Apt Quotation Is Like A Lamp Which Flings Its Light Over The Whole Sentence.

How Beautiful, Buoyant, And Glad Is Morning! The First Sunshine On The Leaves: The First Wind, Laden With The First Breath Of The Flowers—that Deep Sigh With Which They Seem To Waken From Sleep; The First Dew, Untouched Even By The Light Foot Of The Early Hare; The First Chirping Of The Rousing Birds, As If Eager To Begin Song And Flight; All Is Redolent Of The Strength Given By Rest, And The Joy Of Conscious Life.