When a person is lucky enough to live inside a story$$$ to live inside an imaginary world$$$ the pains of this world disappear. For as long as the story goes on$$$ reality no longer exists.

Thou distributest Thy riches through the hidden springs of all things.

My God$$$ how I burned$$$ how I burned with longing to leave earthly and fly back to you.

It's easy$$$ there's a trick to it$$$ you do it or you die.

Oh! that I might repose on Thee! Oh! that Thou wouldest enter into my heart$$$ and inebriate it$$$ that I may forget my ills$$$ and embrace Thee$$$ my sole good!

The weakness then of infant limbs$$$ not its will$$$ is its innocence.

There is no disgrace in honest failure; there is disgrace in fearing to fail.

No man has a right to dictate another man's inner life - the furniture inside his skull.

The historian is an indissoluble part of his history$$$ as the poet is of his poem$$$ as the shadowy biographer is of his subject's life...

Hunger allows no choice<br>To the citizen or the police;<br>We must love one another or die.