Curiosity Is Its Own Suicide.

All Beginnings Are Very Troublesome Things.

There Is The Cause For Pleasure And For Pain: But Music Moves Us, And We Know Not Why? We Feel The Tears, But Cannot Trace Their Source. Is It The Language Of Some Other State, Born Of Its Memory! For What Can Wake The Soul's Strong Instinct Of Another World, Like Music！

There Is No Wretchedness Like Self-reproach.

A Woman Only Can Understand A Woman.

Farewell's A Bitter Word To Say.