Silence Is Of Different Kinds,

You Are Afraid Of Me, Because I Talk Like A Sphinx.

I Recalled The Voice I Had Heard; Again I Questioned Whence It Came, As Vainly As Before: It Seemed In Me Not In The External World. I Asked, Was It A Mere Nervous Impression A Delusion? I Could Not Conceive Or Believe: It Was More Like An Inspiration.

You — You Strange — You Almost Unearthly Thing! — I Love As My Own Flesh. You — Poor And Obscure, And Small And Plain As You Are — I Entreat To Accept Me As A Husband.

It Is Far Better To Endure Patiently A Smart Which Nobody Feels But Yourself, Than To Commit A Hasty Action Whose Evil Consequences Will Extend To All Connected With You.

It Is A Pity That Doing One's Best Does Not Always Answer.