Could We See When And Where We

Genius Scorns The Power Of Gold: It Is Wrong. Gold Is The War-scythe On Its Chariot, Which Mows Down The Millions Of Its Foes, And Gives Free Passage To The Sun-coursers With Which It Leaves Those Heavenly Fields Of Light For The Gross Battlefields Of Earth.

We Only See Clearly When We Have Reached The Depths Of Woe.

Fame! It Is The Flower Of A Day, That Dies When The Next Sun Rises.

Women Hope That The Dead Love May Revive; But Men Know That Of All Dead Things None Are So Past Recall As A Dead Passion.

When You Talk Yourself, You Think How Witty, How Original, How Acute You Are; But When Another Does So, You Are Very Apt To Think Only - What A Crib From Rochefoucauld!