Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, it is, for that reason, to be of no account?
Jean PaulWith so many thousand joys, is it not black ingratitude to call the world a place of sorrow and torment?
Jean PaulBecause the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, it is, for that reason, to be of no account?
Jean PaulWith so many thousand joys, is it not black ingratitude to call the world a place of sorrow and torment?
Jean Paul