In Order To Be Somebody

The Hour-hand Of Life --- Life Consists Of Rare, Isolated Moments Of The Greatest Significance, And Of Innumerably Many Intervals, During Which At Best The Silhouettes Of Those Moments Hover About Us. Love, Springtime, Every Beautiful Melody, Mountains, The Moon, The Sea - All These Speak Completely To The Heart But Once, If In Fact They Ever Do Get A Chance To Speak Completely. For Many Men Do Not Have Those Moments At All, And Are Themselves Intervals And Intermissions In The Symphony Of Real Life.

The Happiness Of Man Is: I Will. The Happiness Of Woman Is: He Wills. 'behold , Just Now The World ... Entire Love. And Woman Must Obey And Find A Depth For Her Surface. Surface Is The Disposition Of Woman: A Mobile, Stormy Film Over Shallow Water. Man's Disposition, However, Is Deep; His River Roars In Subterranean Caves: Woman Feels His Strength But Does Not Comprehend It.

What Verse Is For The Poet, Dialectical Thinking Is For The Philosopher. He Grasps For It In Order To Get Hold Of His Own Enchantment, In Order To Perpetuate It.

The Gilded Sheath Of Pity Sometimes Covers The Dagger Of Envy.

All Mankind Is Divided, As It Was At All Times And Is Still, Into Slaves And Freemen.