But The Mere Truth Won't Do. You

In Seasons Of Pestilence, Some Of Us Will Have A Secret Attraction To The Disease--a Terrible Passing Inclination To Die Of It.

Now, What I Want Is, Facts. . . . Facts Alone Are Wanted In Life.

As He Glided Stealthily Along, Creeping Beneath The Shelter Of The Walls And Doorways, The Hideous Old Man Seemed Like Some Loathsome Reptile, Engendered In The Slime And Darkness Through Which He Moved: Crawling Forth, By Night, In Search Of Some Rich Offal For A Meal.

Love Is In All Things A Most Wonderful Teacher.

She Was Too Intent Upon Her Work, And Too Earnest In What She Said, And Too Composed And Quiet Altogether, To Be On The Watch For Any Look He Might Direct Towards Her In Reply; So The Shaft Of His Ungrateful Glance Fell Harmless, And Did Not Wound Her.