March 23.
MY PHILOSOPHY, I find after very little analysis, approaches precariously near to sensualism.
It is wonderful how many sides there can be to just one character.
Nature, with all those suns, and all those hilltops, and all those rivers, and all those stars, is inscrutable—intangible—maddening. It affects one with unutterable joy and anguish, but no one can ever begin to understand what it means.
Human nature is yet more inscrutable—and nothing appears on the surface. One can have no idea of the things buried in the minds of one's acquaintances. And mostly they are fools and have no idea themselves of what germs are in themselves—of what they are capable. And in most minds it is true the dormant devils never awaken and never are known.
