Some Feelings Are To Mortals

Cats Are A Very Mysterious Kind Of Folk. There Is Always More Passing In Their Minds Than We Are Aware Of.

One Crowded Hour Of Glorious Life Is Worth An Age Without A Name

Honour Is A Homicide And A Bloodspiller, That Gangs About Making Frays In The Street; But Credit Is A Decent Honest Man, That Sits At Hame And Makes The Pat Play.

For Love Is Heaven And Heaven Is Love.

To The Timid And Hesitating Everything Is Impossible Because It Seems So.