The Loss Of Our Illusions Is The

You Know The Ark Of Israel And The Calf Of Belial Were Both Made Of Gold. Religion Has Never Yet Changed The Metal Of Her One Adoration.

Women Hope That The Dead Love May Revive; But Men Know That Of All Dead Things None Are So Past Recall As A Dead Passion.

Power Is Sweet, And When You Are A Little Clerk You Love Its Sweetness Quite As Much As If You Were An Emperor, And Maybe You Love It A Good Deal More.

Genius Scorns The Power Of Gold: It Is Wrong. Gold Is The War-scythe On Its Chariot, Which Mows Down The Millions Of Its Foes, And Gives Free Passage To The Sun-coursers With Which It Leaves Those Heavenly Fields Of Light For The Gross Battlefields Of Earth.

Is There A More Pitiable Spectacle Than That Of A Wife Contending With Others For That Charm In Her Husband's Sight Which No Philters And No Prayers Can Renew When Once It Has Fled Forever? Women Are So Unwise. Love Is Like A Bird's Song Beautiful And Eloquent When Heard In Forest Freedom, Harsh And Worthless In Repetition When Sung From Behind Prison Bars. You Cannot Secure Love By Vigilance, By Environment, By Captivity. What Use Is It To Keep The Person Of A Man Beside You If His Soul Be Truant From You?