Genius Has No Limit Of Sex Or

They Are Called Finishing-schools And The Name Tells Accurately What They Are. They Finish Everything.

Perhaps The Old Monks Were Right When They Tried To Root Love Out; Perhaps The Poets Are Right When They Try To Water It. It Is A Blood-red Flower, With The Color Of Sin; But There Is Always The Scent Of A God About It.

It Is The Swimmer Who First Leaps Into The Frozen Stream Who Is Cut Sharpest By The Ice; Those Who Follow Him Find It Broken, And The Last Find It Gone. It Is The Men Or Women Who First Tread Down The Path Which The Bulk Of Humanity Will Ultimately Follow, Who Must Find Themselves At Last In Solitudes Where The Silence Is Deadly.

If The Bird Does Like Its Cage, And Does Like Its Sugar And Will Not Leave It, Why Keep The Door So Very Carefully Shut?

There Was Never A Great Man Who Had Not A Great Mother.