The Ladies Who Try To Keep Their

Growing Old Is Not A Gradual Decline, But A Series Of Drops, Full Of Sorrow, From One Ledge To Another Below It.

There Is More Felicity On The Far Side Of Baldness Than Young Men Can Possibly Imagine.

How Often My Soul Visits The National Gallery, And How Seldom

Those Who Set Out To Serve Both God And Mammon Soon Discover That There Isn't A God.

An Echo Of Music, A Face In The Street, The Wafer Of The New Moon, A Wanton Thought - Only In The Iridescence Of Things The Vagabond Soul Is Happy.