I Roused Myself From The Book Which

The Evening Advanced. The Shadows Lengthened. The Waters Of The Lake Grew Pitchy Black. The Gliding Of The Ghostly Swans Became Rare And More Rare.

I Am A Citizen Of The World, And I Have Met, In My Time, With So Many Different Sorts Of Virtue, That I Am Puzzled, In My Old Age, To Say Which Is The Right Sort And Which Is The Wrong.

The Mystery Which Underlies The Beauty Of Women Is Never Raised Above The Reach Of All Expression Until It Has Claimed Kindred With The Deeper Mystery In Our Own Souls.

I Am (thank God) Constitutionally Superior To Reason.

...it Will Always Remain My Private Persuasion That Nature Was Absorbed In Making Cabbages When Mrs. Vesey Was Born, And That The Good Lady Suffered The Consequences Of A Vegetable Preoccupation In The Mind Of The Mother Of Us All.