Every Body Drags Its Shadow, And Every

Love Is Like A Tree: It Grows By Itself, Roots Itself Deeply In Our Being And Continues To Flourish Over A Heart In Ruin. The Inexplicable Fact Is That The Blinder It Is, The More Tenacious It Is. It Is Never Stronger Than When It Is Completely Unreasonable.

One Of The Magnanimities Of Woman Is To Yield.

Kings Are For Nations In Their Swaddling-clothes: France Has Attained Her Majority.

Desiring Always To Be In Mourning, He Clothed Himself With Night.

We Are All Under Sentence Of Death, But With A Sort Of Indefinite Reprieve.