Every truth passes through three stages before
it is recognized. In the first it is ridiculed,
in the second it is opposed, in the third it
is regarded as self evident.
There Is A Garden In Her Face,
Where Roses And White Lilies Blow;
A Heavenly Paradise Is That Place,
Wherein All Pleasant Fruits Do Grow.
There Cherries Grow That None May Buy,
Till Cherry Ripe Themselves Do Cry
The art of living does not consist
in preserving and clinging
to a particular mood of happiness,
but in allowing happiness
to change its form without
being disappointed by the change;
for happiness, like a child,
must be allowed to grow up.
