Not a blade of grass but has a story to tell, not a heart but has its romance, not a life which does not hide a secret which is either its thorn or its spur. Everywhere grief, hope, comedy, tragedy; even under the petrifaction of old age, as in the twisted forms of fossils, we may discover the agitations and tortures of youth. This thought is the magic wand of poets and of preachers: it strips the scales from our fleshly eyes, and gives us a clear view into human life; it opens to the ear a world of unknown melodies, and makes us understand the thousand languages of nature. Thwarted love makes a man polyglot, and grief transforms him into a diviner and a sorcerer. ~Henri-Fr?d?ric Amiel, 28th March 1855 (journal), translated from French by Mary Augusta WardTPVgb:z0_DrV9dW0oC; Mrs Humphry Ward; Amiel’s Journal: The Journal Intime of Henri-Frederic Amiel; Qe2