If Our Impulses Were Confined To Hunger,

...we Are Unfashioned Creatures, But Half Made Up, If One Wiser, Better, Dearer Than Ourselves - Such A Friend Ought To Be - Do Not Lend His Aid To Perfectionate Our Weak And Faulty Natures.

For A Moment My Soul Was Elevated From Its Debasing And Miserable Fears To Which These Sights Were The Monuments And The Remembrances. For An Instant I Dared To Shake Off My Chains, And Look Around Me With A Free And Lofty Spirit; But The Iron Had Eaten Into My Flesh, And I Sank Again, Trembling And Hopeless, Into My Miserable Self.

Live, And Be Happy, And Make Others So.

Ennui, The Demon, Waited At The Threshold Of His Noiseless Refuge, And Drove Away The Stirring Hopes And Enlivening Expectations, Which Form The Better Part Of Life.

I Do Know That For The Sympathy Of One Living Being, I Would Make Peace With All. I Have Love In Me The Likes Of Which You Can Scarcely Imagine And Rage The Likes Of Which You Would Not Believe. If I Cannot Satisfy The One, I Will Indulge The Other.