The hand will often reveal more than the countenance.

The very shadows seem to listen.

faces deceive, and the loveliness of youth is not like the loveliness of age - an absolute mirror of the soul within.

There is no suffering like a child's, terrified by a secret which it dare not for some reason disclose.

He who steps on stones is glad to feel the smallest spray of moss beneath his feet.

It was the smile which runs before a promise.

Do we fear suffering or apathy most? Is it from experience or the monotony of a commonplace existence that we quickest flee?