Strike The Dog Dead, It's But A

Vanity Is A Desire Of Personal Glory, The Wish To Be Appreciated, Honoured, And Run After, Not Because Of One's Personal Qualities, Merits, And Achievements, But Because Of One's Individual Existence. At Best, Therefore, It Is A Frivolous Beauty Whim It Befits.

Is It Not Enough That We Cannot Make One Another Happy, Must We Also Rob One Another Of The Pleasures That Any Heart May Permit Itself Now And Then? And Name Me A Person Who In A Bad Mood Will Be Decent Enough To Hide It, To Bear It Alone, Without Destroying The Joy Around Him. Is It Not Rather An Inner Dissatisfaction With Our Own Unworthiness, A Dislike Of Ourselves That Is Always Associated With Envy Aggravated By Foolish Conceit? We See People Happy And Not Made Happy By Us, And That Is Unbearable.

I Had Toward The Poetic Art A Peculiar Relation Which Was Only Practical After I Had Cherished In My Mind For A Long Time A Subject Which Possessed Me, A Model Which Inspired Me, A Predecessor Who Attracted Me, Until At Length, After I Had Molded It

The Traveler Was Active; He Went Strenuously In Search Of People, Of Adventure, Of Experience. The Tourist Is Passive.

Few Are Open To Conviction, But The Majority Of Men Are Open To Persuasion