Foppery, Being The Chronic Condition Of Women,

By And Large, Women Have A Faith And A Morality Peculiar To Themselves; They Believe In The Reality Of Everything That Serves Their Interest And Their Passions.

Everything Becomes Agitated. Ideas Quick-march Into Motion Like Battalions Of A Grand Army To Its Legendary Fighting Ground, And The Battle Rages. Memories Charge In, Bright Flags On High; The Cavalry Of Metaphor Deploys With A Magnificent Gallop; The Artillery Of Logic Rushes Up With Clattering Wagons And Cartridges; On Imagination's Orders, Sharpshooters Sight And Fire; Forms And Shapes And Characters Rear Up; The Paper Is Spread With Ink - For The Nightly Labor Begins And Ends With Torrents Of This Black Water, As A Battle Opens And Concludes With Black Powder.

For Passion, Be It Observed, Brings Insight With It; It Can Give A Sort Of Intelligence To Simpletons, Fools, And Idiots, Especially During Youth.

Journalists Grow Accustomed To Seeing Evil And They Let It Pass; They Proceed To Approve It, And They End By Committing It Themselves.

Lovers Have A Way Of Using This Word "nothing" Which Implies Exactly The Opposite.