When Two People Are Really

I Do Not Now Begin, - I Still Adore Her Whom I Early Cherish'd In My Breast; Then Once Again With Prudence Dispossess'd, And To Whose Heart I'm Driven Back Once More. The Love Of Petrarch, That All-glorious Love, Was Unrequited, And, Alas, Full Sad.

The Flowers Of Life Are But Visionary. How Many Pass Away And Leave No Trace Behind! How Few Yield Any Fruit,--and The Fruit Itself, How Rarely Does It Ripen! And Yet There Are Flowers Enough; And Is It Not Strange, My Friend, That We Should Suffer The Little That Does Really Ripen To Rot, Decay, And Perish Unenjoyed?

Everything Is Both Simpler Than We Can Imagine And More Entangled Than We Can Conceive.

Do People Conform To The Instructions Of Us Old Ones? Each Thinks He Must Know Best About Himself, And Thus Many Are Lost Entirely.

Unlike Grown Ups, Children Have Little Need To Deceive Themselves.