There is something pagan in me that I cannot shake off. In short, I deny nothing, but doubt everything.

If I do not write to empty my mind, I go mad.

But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.

All who joy would win Must share it -- Happiness was born a twin.

They never fail who die in a great cause.