Life Would Be No Better Than Candlelight

The Pride Of The Body Is A Barrier Against The Gifts That Purify The Soul.

Perhaps The Wind Wails So In Winter For The Summers Dead, And All Sad Sounds Are Nature's Funeral Cries For What Has Been And Is Not.

You Are A Good Young Man," She Said. "but I Do Not Like Husbands. I Will Never Have Another.

When One Is Grateful For Something Too Good For Common Thanks, Writing Is Less Unsatisfactory Than Speech-one Does Not, At Least, Hear How Inadequate The Words Are.

There Are Some Cases In Which The Sense Of Injury Breeds Not The Will To Inflict Injuries And Climb Over Them As A Ladder, But A Hatred Of All Injury.