He Half Retrieves A Defeat Who Yields

As Threshing Separates The Wheat From The Chaff, So Does Affliction Purify Virtue.

Tearless Grief Bleeds Inwardly.

He Has But One Great Fear That Fears To Do Wrong.

Hunting Is A Relic Of The Barbarism That Once Thirsted For Human Blood, But Is Now Content With The Blood Of Animals.

The Beauty Of A Woman Transcends All Other Forms Of Beauty, As Well In The Sweetness Of Its Suggestions, As In The Fervor Of The Admiration It Awakens. The Beauty Of A Lovely Woman Is An Inspiration, A Sweet Delirium, A Gentle Madness. Her Looks Are Love-potions. Heaven Itself Is Never So Clearly Revealed To Us As In The Face Of A Beautiful Woman.