Give The Enemy Not Only

That It Would Always Be Summer And Autumn, And You Always Courting Me, And Always Thinking As Much Of Me As You Have Done Through The Past Summertime!

There Are Disappointments Which Wring Us, And There Are Those Which Inflict A Wound Whose Mark We Bear To Our Graves. Such Are So Keen That No Future Gratification Of The Same Desire Can Ever Obliterate Them: They Become Registered As A Permanent Loss Of Happiness.

Once Let A Maiden Admit The Possibility Of Her Being Stricken With Love For Some One At A Certain Hour And Place, And The Thing Is As Good As Done.

Measurement Of Life Should Be Proportioned Rather To The Intensity Of The Experience Than To Its Actual Length.

Do Not Do An Immoral Thing For Moral Reasons.