He Has But One Great

Without Death In The World, Existence In It Would Soon Become, Through Over-population, The Most Frightful Of Curses.

It Is Ever The Invisible That Is The Object Of Our Profoundest Worship. With The Lover It Is Not The Seen But The Unseen That He Muses Upon.

There Are Seaons When Our Passions Have Slept So Long That We Know Not Whether They Still Exist In Us. So Does Flax Forget That It Is Combustible When The Fire Is Away From It.

Dishonesty Is A Forsaking Of Permanent For Temporary Advantages.

False Friends Are Like Our Shadow, Keeping Close To Us While We Walk In The Sunshine, But Leaving Us The Instant We Cross Into The Shade.