In the harsh face of life faith can read a bracing gospel.
I had learned to dwell with pleasure, as a beloved daydream, on the thought of the separation of these elements.
To be what we are, and to become what we are capable of becoming, is the only end of life.
The person who has stopped being thankful has fallen asleep in life.
I wish these flies would piss off.
O my poor old Harry Jekyll, if ever I read Satan's signature upon a face, it is on that of your new friend.