Genius, Like Truth, Has A Shabby And

There Is A Strange And Mighty Race Of People Called The Americans Who Are Rapidly Becoming The Coldest In The World Because Of This Cruel, Man-eating Idol, Lucre.

So Much Of Our Lives Is Given Over To The Consideration Of Our Imperfections That There Is No Time To Improve Our Imaginary Virtues. The Truth Is We Only Perfect Our Vices, And Man Is A Worse Creature When He Dies Than He Was When He Was Born.

A Man Who Can Be Entertaining For A Full Day Will Be In His Grave By Night-fall.

We Cannot Live, Suffer Or Die For Somebody Else, For Suffering Is Too Precious To Be Shared.

Nothing In Our Times Has Become So Unattractive As Virtue.