One May Know How To

Never Confide Your Secrets To Paper; It Is Like Throwing A Stone In The Air; And If You Know Who Throws The Stone, You Do Not Know Where It May Fall.

These Flowers, Which Were Splendid And Sprightly, Waking In The Dawn Of The Morning, In The Evening Will Be A Pitiful Frivolity, Sleeping In The Cold Night's Arms.

Our Treasures Trifles Seem, And All Our Life Is Dreaming, And The Dreams Themselves Are Dreams.

But Whether It Be Dream Or Truth, To Do Well Is What Matters. If It Be Truth, For Truth's Sake. If Not, Then To Gain Friends For The Time When We Awaken.

If A Pretty Woman Only Knew How Anger Improved Her Beauty! Her Complexion Needs No Other Paint Than Indignation.