Though thou loved her as thyself, As a self of purer clay, Tho' her parting dims the day, Stealing grace from all alive, Heartily know, When half-god… - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Heartily know, When half-gods go, The gods arrive.

My life is not an apology, but a life. It is for itself and not for a spectacle. I much prefer that it should be of a lower strain, so it be genuine and equal, than that it should be glittering and unsteady. I wish it to be sound and sweet, and not to need diet and bleeding. My life should be unique; it should be an alms, a battle, a conquest, a medicine.

Everything is made of one hidden stuff.

I do then with my friends as I do with my books. I would have them where I can find them, but I seldom use them.