Love May Be Or It

We Cannot Confront Solitude Without Moral Resources.

Mud, Raised By Hurricanes, Wells Up In The Noblest And Purest Of Hearts.

A Grass Blade Believes That Men Build Palaces For It To Grow In. Grass Wedges Its Way Between The Closest Blocks Of Marble And It Brings Them Down. This Power Of Feeble Life Which Can Creep In Anywhere Is Greater Than That Of The Mighty Behind Their Cannons.

Generally Our Confidences Move Downward Rather Than Upward; In Our Secret Affairs, We Employ Our Inferiors Much More Than Our Bettors.

I Am A Galley Slave To Pen And Ink.