They are slaves who fear to speak, for the fallen and the weak.
Incredulity robs us of many pleasures, and gives us nothing in return.
If youth be a defect, it is one that we outgrow only too soon.
The path of nature is, indeed, a narrow one, and it is only the immortals that seek it, and, when they find it, do not find themselves cramped therein.
Mishaps are like knives, that either serve us or cut us, as we grasp them by the blade or the handle.
To be young is surely the best, if the most precarious, gift of life.