The skirts of the gods Drag in our mud. We feel the touch And take it to be a kiss.

In tragedy every moment is eternity; in comedy, eternity is a moment.

Indulgences, not fulfillment, is what the world Permits us.

How nature loves the incomplete. She knows If she drew a conclusion it would finish her.

It is the individual man in his individual freedom who can mature with his warm spirit the unripe world.

There may always be another reality to make fiction of the truth we think we've arrived at.

It's always our touches of vanity that manage to betray us.