At The Point When Affection Is Not

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

What Law, What Reason Can Deny That Gift So Sweet, So Natural That God Has Given A Stream, A Fish, A Beast, A Bird?

When Love Is Not Madness, It Is Not Love.

In This Treacherous World Nothing Is The Truth Nor A Lie. Everything Depends On The Color Of The Crystal Through Which One Sees It

Dreams Are Rough Copies Of The Waking Soul Yet Uncorrected Of The Higher Will, So That Men Sometimes In Their Dreams Confess An Unsuspected, Or Forgotten, Self; -since Dreaming, Madness, Passion, Are Akin In Missing Each That Salutory Rein Of Reason, And The Grinding Will Of Man.