What opium is instilled into all disaster? It shows formidable as we approach it, but there is at last no rough rasping friction,but the most slippery sliding surfaces. We fall soft on a thought.
In art, the hand can never execute anything higher than the heart can imagine.
The people are to be taken in very small doses.
We walk alone in the world. Friends, such as we desire, are dreams and fables.
For nonconformity the world will whip you with its displeasure.
Cities degrade us by magnifying trifles.