Our souls sit close and silently within,
And their own web from their own entrails spin;
And read more

Our souls sit close and silently within,
And their own web from their own entrails spin;
And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,
That, spider like, we feel the tenderest touch.

In the desert a fountain is springing,
In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And read more

In the desert a fountain is springing,
In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And a bird in the solitude singing,
Which speaks to my spirit of thee.

We pine for kindred natures
To mingle with our own.

We pine for kindred natures
To mingle with our own.

But there is one thing which we are responsible for, and that is
for our sympathies, for the manner read more

But there is one thing which we are responsible for, and that is
for our sympathies, for the manner in which we regard it, and for
the tone in which we discuss it. What shall we say, then, with
regard to it? On which side shall we stand?

Life is to be lived. If you have to support yourself, you had bloody well better find some way that read more

Life is to be lived. If you have to support yourself, you had bloody well better find some way that is going to be interesting. And you don't do that by sitting around wondering about yourself.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.

I can sympathize with everything, except suffering.

I can sympathize with everything, except suffering.

The man who melts
With social sympathy, though not allied,
Is more worth than a thousand kinsmen.

The man who melts
With social sympathy, though not allied,
Is more worth than a thousand kinsmen.

The craving for sympathy is the common boundary-line between joy
and sorrow.

The craving for sympathy is the common boundary-line between joy
and sorrow.