The Look Of A King

In Women Everything Is Heart, Even The Head.

Gray Hairs Seem To My Fancy Like The Soft Light Of The Moon, Silvering Over The Evening Of Life.

For The Infinite Has Sowed His Name In The Heavens In Burning Stars, But On The Earth He Has Sowed His Name In Tender Flowers.

A Woman Who Could Always Love Would Never Grow Old; And The Love Of Mother And Wife Would Often Give Or Preserve Many Charms If It Were Not Too Often Combined With Parental And Conjugal Anger. There Remains In The Face Of Women Who Are Naturally Serene And Peaceful, And Of Those Rendered So By Religion, An After-spring, And Later An After-summer, The Reflex Of Their Most Beautiful Bloom.

Nothing Is More Beautiful Than Cheerfulness In An Old Face.