Admiration Bestowed Upon Any One But Ourselves

Too Great A Display Of Delicacy Can And Does Sometimes Infringe Upon De-cency.

A Murderer Is Less Loathsome To Us Than A Spy. The Murderer May Have Acted On A Sudden Mad Impulse; He May Be Penitent And Amend; But A Spy Is Always A Spy, Night And Day, In Bed, At Table, As He Walks Abroad; His Vileness Pervades Every Moment Of His Life

Journalists Grow Accustomed To Seeing Evil And They Let It Pass; They Proceed To Approve It, And They End By Committing It Themselves.

True Love Is Mixed Up With Birdlike Squabbles, In Which The Disputants Wound Each Other To The Quick; But A Quarrel Without Animus Is, On The Contrary, Apiece Of Flattery To The Dupe's Conceit.

The Press Is Like A Woman: Sublime When It Lies, It Will Not Let Go Until It Has Forced You To Believe It. The Public, Like A Foolish Husband, Always Succumbs.