Much of your pain is self-chosen.
How distant I am from people when I am with them, and how close when they are far away.
The sorrowful spirit finds relaxation in solitude.
The real in us is silent; the acquired is talkative.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Your soul is oftentimes a battlefield, upon your reason and your judgment wage war against your passion and your appetite.