The Soul Is Strong That Trusts In

Petitions, Not Sweetened With Gold, Are But Unsavory And Oft Refused; Or, If Received, Are Pocketed, Not Read.

Virgin Me No Virgins! I Must Have You Lose That Name, Or You Lose Me.

Virtue, Thou In Rags, May Challenge More Than Vice Set Off With All The Trim Of Greatness.

I In My Own House Am An Emperor, And Will Defend What's Mine.

As The Index Tells Us The Contents Of Stories And Directs To The Particular Chapter, Even So Does The Outward Habit And Superficial Order Of Garments (in Man Or Woman) Give Us A Taste Of The Spirit, And Demonstratively Point (as It Were A Manual Note From The Margin) All The Internal Quality Of The Soul; And There Cannot Be A More Evident, Palpable, Gross Manifestation Of Poor, Degenerate, Dunghilly Blood And Breeding Than A Rude, Unpolished, Disordered, And Slovenly Outside.