Some of your griefs you have cured, And the sharpest you still have survived, But what torments of grief you've endured From evils that never arrived.

There is creative reading as well as creative writing.

How we hate this solemn Ego that accompanies the learned, like a double, wherever he goes.

The world - this shadow of the soul, or other me - lies wide around. Its attractions are the keys which unlock my thoughts and make me acquainted with myself. I run eagerly into this resounding tumult... So much only of life as I know by experience... The true scholar grudges every opportunity of action past by, as a loss of power.

The mass of men worry themselves into nameless graves while here and there a great unselfish soul forgets himself into immortality.

If any mention was made of homicide, madness, adultery, and intolerable tortures, we would let the church-bells ring louder, the church-organ swell its peal and drown the hideous sound. The sugar they raised was excellent: nobody tasted blood in it.

The moment we indulge our affections, the earth is metamorphosed.