Beauty in all things-no, we cannot hope for that; but some place set apart for it.

Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.

But you were something more than young and sweet And fair, - and the long year remembers you.

Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more! Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore! And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me, I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparingly That I might eat again, and met thy sneers With deprecations, and thy blows with tears.

The only people I really hate are servants. They're not really human beings at all.

And must I then, indeed, Pain, live with you all through my life?-sharing my fire, my bed, Sharing-oh, worst of all things!-the same head?- And, when I feed myself, feeding you too?

I find that I never lose Bach. I don't know why I have always loved him so. Except that he is so pure, so relentless and incorruptible, like a principle of geometry.