Love Of Beauty Is Really Only The

Only Love Makes Fruitful The Soul.

Justice Is A Machine That, When Some One Has Once Given It The Starting Push, Rolls On Of Itself.

There Are Houses Whose Souls Have Passed Into The Limbo Of Time, Leaving Their Bodies In The Limbo Of London. Such Was Not Quite The Condition Of Timothy's On The Bayswater Road, For Timothy's Soul Still Had One Foot In Timothy Forsyte's Body, And Smither Kept The Atmosphere Unchanging, Of Camphor And Port Wine And House Whose Windows Are Only Opened To Air It Twice A Day.

A Man Is The Sum Of His Actions, Of What He Has Done, Of What He Can Do, Nothing Else.

By The Cigars They Smoke, And The Composers They Love, Ye Shall Know The Texture Of Men's Souls.