How Dismal Is Progress Without

Assure A Man That He Has A Soul And Then Frighten Him With Old Wives' Tales As To What Is To Become Of Him Afterward, And You Have Hooked A Fish, A Mental Slave.

A Real Flame Of Love Is A Subtle Thing. It Burns As A Will-o'-the-wisp, Dancing Onward To Fairy Lands Of Delight. It Roars As A Furnace. Too Often Jealousy Is The Quality Upon Which It Feeds.

People In General Attach Too Much Importance To Words. They Are Under The Illusion That Talking Effects Great Results. As A Matter Of Fact, Words Are, As A Rule, The Shallowest Portion Of All The Argument. They But Dimly Represent The Great Surging Feelings And Desires Which Lie Behind. When The Distraction Of The Tongue Is Removed, The Heart Listens.

It Is A Sad Thing To Want For Happiness, But It Is A Terrible Thing To See Another Groping About Blindly For It, When It Is Almost Within The Grasp.

Life Is Made For The Strong. There Is No Mercy In It For The Weak– None...such Is The Tragedy Of Desire.