Cats Like Men Are Flatterers.

We Enter Our Studies, And Enjoy A Society Which We Alone Can Bring Together. We Raise No Jealousy By Conversing With One In Preference To Another; We Give No Offence To The Most Illustrious By Questioning Him As Long As We Will, And Leaving Him As Abruptly. Diversity Of Opinion Raises No Tumult In Our Presence: Each Interlocutor Stands Before Us, Speaks Or Is Silent, And We Adjourn Or Decide The Business At Our Leisure.

In The Hours Of Distress And Misery, The Eyes Of Every Mortal Turn To Friendship; In The Hours Of Gladness And Conviviality, What Is Our Want? It Is Friendship. When The Heart Overflows With Gratitude, Or With Any Other Sweet Or Sacred Sentiment, What Is The Word To Which It Would Give Utterance? A Friend.

Ah What Avails The Sceptred Race, Ah What The Form Divine! What Every Virtue, Every Grace! Rose Aylmer, All Were Thine. Rose Aylmer, Whom These Wakeful Eyes May Weep, But Never See, A Night Of Memories And Of Sighs I Consecrate To Thee.

O What A Thing Is Age! Death Without Death's Quiet.

He Who Brings Ridicule To Bear Against Truth Finds In His Hand A Blade Without A Hilt. The Most Sparkling And Pointed Flame Of Wit Flickers And Expires Against The Incombustible Walls Of Her Sanctuary.