Happiness comes the way the wind blows.

I am like a mariner born and bred on board a buccaneer brig whose soul has become so inured to storm and strife that if cast ashore he would weary and languish no matter how alluring the shady groves and how bright the gentle sun.

For what did the creator prepare me,Why did he so terribly contradictThe hopes of my youth?

I was ready to love the whole world, but no one understood me, and I learned to hate.

Of two friends, one is always the slave of the other, although frequently neither acknowledges the fact to himself.

My whole life has been merely a succession of miserable and unsuccessful denials of feelings or reason.

Happiness comes the way the wind blows.