I know that I have been a fool, a madman, to believe that the snow could have been animated, that the marble could grow warm; but what would you expect? The lover easily believes in love, nor has my journey been entirely in vain, since I behold you now.

A man doesn't know till he tries it how killing uncongenial work is, and how it destroys the power of doing what one's fit for, even if there's time for both.

You are disoriented. Blackness swims toward you like a school of eels who have just seen something that eels like a lot.

When you feel discontented, think over your blessings, and be grateful.

Written By Louisa May Alcott

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