To understand is nothing, but to be understood-that is the problem and the source of anguish. The soul throbs and would have the other know-but can not and feels isolated. Then come gestures, words, awkward explanations and material symbols for imponderable outbursts of feeling-and the soul despairs.

Work and struggle and never accept an evil that you can change.

It is not becoming to lay to virtue the weariness of old age.

A caterpillar who seeks to know himself would never become a butterfly

The reasons that drive me to write are many and the most important are the most secret, I think. Perhaps most of all this: to put something out of death's reach.

I wished for nothing beyond her smile, and to walk with her thus, hand in hand, along a sun warmed, flower bordered path.

The nationalist has a broad hatred and a narrow love.