I must have no fear of failure. It was my fear of failure that first kept me from attempting the Master Work.

Pero ahora sé que nuestro mundo no es nunca más permanente que una ola que se eleva sobre el océano. Cualesquiera que sean nuestras luchas y nuestras victorias, comoquiera que las padezcamos, enseguida desaparecen en la corriente, como la tinta acuosa sobre el papel.

Is all niceness then or is all buggery? How can a man be forty-five years old and still not know whether all is niceness or buggery? How does one know for sure?

Ah, he would take her beyond---beyond the ugliness, the pettiness, the attrition and corrosion of her soul.

Written By Edith Wharton

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