The End Crowneth The Work.

O Fortune, How Thy Restless, Wavering State Has Fraught With Cares My Troubled Wit!

When We Hang On To Resentments, We Poison Ourselves. As Compulsive Overeaters, We Cannot Afford Resentment, Since It Exacerbates Our Disease.

The Doubt Of Future Foes Exiles My Present Joy.

I Do Not Want A Husband Who Honors Me As A Queen If He Does Not Love Me As A Woman.

If We Still Advise We Shall Never Do.