It Would Appear, From The

One Cannot Lay A Foundation By Scattering Stones, Nor Is A Reputation For Good Work To Be Got By Strewing Volumes About The World.

Youth Is The Period Of Harsh Judgments, And A Man Seldom Learns Until He Reaches Thirty That Human Nature Is Made Up Not Of Simples, But Of Compounds.

A Tragic Irony Of Life Is That We So Often Achieve Success Or Financial Independence After The Chief Reason For Which We Sought It Has Passed Away.

Cruelty, I Truly Believe, Is The One And Only Sin.

The Attraction Of Horror Is A Mental, Or Even An Intellectual, Excitement, But The Fascination Of The Repulsive, So Noticeable Incontemporary Writing, Can Spring Openly From Some Rotted Substance Within Our Civilization.