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“And what of that? Is not a day divided into twenty-four hours, each hour into sixty minutes, and every minute sub-divided into sixty seconds? Now in 86,400 seconds very many things can be done.”
Some few words passed between them in that sonorous language in which Homer makes his gods converse.
“Pretend to think well of yourself, and the world will think well of you,”
“you know that human inventions march from the complex to the simple, and simplicity is always perfection.”
“But to do this he must have spoken?” “He has done better than that - he has made himself understood.”
Moral wounds have this peculiarity, - they may be hidden, but they never close; always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain fresh and open in the heart.
all were eager to speak to him, as is always the case with those whose words are few and weighty.
There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt what it is to die, Morrel, that we may appreciate the enjoyments of living.
