Nothing Is As Heady As The Wine

Everything Becomes Agitated. Ideas Quick-march Into Motion Like Battalions Of A Grand Army To Its Legendary Fighting Ground, And The Battle Rages. Memories Charge In, Bright Flags On High; The Cavalry Of Metaphor Deploys With A Magnificent Gallop; The Artillery Of Logic Rushes Up With Clattering Wagons And Cartridges; On Imagination's Orders, Sharpshooters Sight And Fire; Forms And Shapes And Characters Rear Up; The Paper Is Spread With Ink - For The Nightly Labor Begins And Ends With Torrents Of This Black Water, As A Battle Opens And Concludes With Black Powder.

Manners Are The Hypocrisy Of A Nation.

A Young Bride Is Like A Plucked Flower; But A Guilty Wife Is Like A Flower That Had Been Walked Over.

One Admirable Trait In Women Is Their Lack Of Illusions About Themselves. They Never Reason About Their Most Blameworthy Actions; Their Feelings Carry Them Away. Even Their Dissimulation Comes Naturally To Them, And In Them Crime Is Free Of All Baseness. Most Of The Time They Simply Do Not Know How It Happened.

A Woman's Sentimental Monkeyshines Will Always Deceive Her Lover, Who Invariably Waxes Ecstatic Where Her Husband Necessarily Shrugs His Shoulders.