Universal happiness keeps the wheels steadily turning$$$ truth and beauty can't.

I am not tragically colored. There is no great sorrow dammed up in my soul$$$ nor lurking behind my eyes. I do not mind at all. I do not belong to the sobbing school of Negrohood who hold that nature somehow has given them a lowdown dirty deal and whose feelings are all hurt about it. Even in the helter-skelter skirmish that is my life$$$ I have seen that the world is to the strong regardless of a little pigmentation$$$ more or less. No$$$ I do not weep at the world. I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.

Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the same horizon$$$ never out of sight$$$ never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation$$$ his dreams mocked to death by Time. That is the life of men. Now$$$ women forget all those things they don't want to remember$$$ and remember everything they don't want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then they act and do things accordingly.

Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.

The price of apparent happiness and enjoyment is the neglect of the spontaneous active energies of the acting members.

Happiness is so nonsynonymous with joy or pleasure that it is not infrequently sought and felt in grief and deprivation.

Success is an ugly thing. Men are deceived by its false resemblances to merit.... They confound the brilliance of the firmament with the star-shaped footprints of a duck in the mud.

It is from books that wise people derive consolation in the troubles of life.

A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in--what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.

But I don't want comfort. I want God$$$ I want poetry$$$ I want real danger$$$ I want freedom$$$ I want goodness. I want sin.