The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter – often an unconscious, but still a truthful interpreter – in the eye.
The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter – often an unconscious, but still a truthful interpreter – in the eye.
To go to the world below, having a soul which is like a vessel full of injustice, is the last and worst of all the evils.
For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul.
Once conform, once do what others do because they do it, and a kind of lethargy steals over all the finer senses of the soul.
What then do you call your soul? What idea have you of it? You cannot of yourselves, without revelation, admit the existence within you of anything but a power unknown to you of feeling and thinking.
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