The future... seems to me no unified dream but a mince pie, long in the baking, never quite done

Of man's miraculous mistakes, this bears The palm, "That all men are about to live."

Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.

Prayer ardent opens heaven.

Pity swells the tide of love.

By all means use some time to be alone.

Woes cluster. Rare are solitary woes; They love a train, they tread each other's heel.