A girl of eighteen imagines the feelings behind the face that has moved her with its sympathetic youth as easily as primitive people imagined the humors of the gods in fair weather. What is she to believe in if not in this vision woven from within?
A girl of eighteen imagines ...
Quotes from the same author
Where is the Life we have lost in living? Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge? Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?
It is never too late to be what you might have been.
Men and women are but children of a larger growth.
Life began with waking up and loving my mother's face.
