To Have To Die Is

We Bury Love; Forgetfulness Grows Over It Like Grass: That Is A Thing To Weep For, Not The Dead.

We Are Never Happy; We Can Only Remember That We Were So Once.

God Has Thickly Strewn Infinity With Grandeur.

Not On The Stage Alone, In The World Also, A Man's Real Character Comes Out Best In His Asides.

Men And Women Make Their Own Beauty Or Their Own Ugliness. Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton Speaks In One Of His Novels Of A Man "who Was Uglier Than He Had Any Business To Be;" And, If We Could But Read It, Every Human Being Carries His Life In His Face, And Is Good-looking Or The Reverse As That Life Has Been Good Or Evil. On Our Features The Fine Chisels Of Thought And Emotion Are Eternally At Work.