Well, My Deliberate Opinion Is

Mother Is Far Too Clever To Understand Anything She Does Not Like.

Your Own Mind Is A Sacred Enclosure Into Which Nothing Harmful Can Enter Except By Your Permission.

Its Language Is A Language Which The Soul Alone Understands, But Which The Soul Can Never Translate.

Pessimism, When You Get Used To It, Is Just As Agreeable As Optimism.

Which Of Us Is Not Saying To Himself Which Of Us Has Not Been Saying To Himself All His Life: " I Shall Alter That When I Have A Little More Time"? We Never Shall Have Any More Time. We Have, And We Have Always Had, All The Time There Is.