A Lie Always Needs A

When A Man Has No Longer Any Conception Of Excellence Above His Own, His Voyage Is Done, He Is Dead,--dead In Trespasses And Sin Of Blear-eyed Vanity.

There Is No Slave Out Of Heaven Like A Loving Woman; And Of All Loving Women, There Is No Such Slave As A Mother.

Loving Is Like Music. Some Instruments Can Go Up Two Octaves, Some Four, And Some All The Way From Black Thunder To Sharp Lightning. As Some Of Them Are Susceptible Only Of Melody, So Some Hearts Can Sing But One Song Of Love, While Others Will Fun In A Full Choral Harmony.

There Is Nothing Which Vanity Does Not Desecrate.

Greatness Lies Not In Being Strong, But In The Right Use Of Strength.