The World, That Grey-bearded And Wrinkled Profligate,

Who Can Tell Where Happiness May Come, Or Where, Though An Expected Guest, It May Never Show Its Face?

Religion And Art Spring From The Same Root And Are Close Kin. Economics And Art Are Strangers.

Salt Is White And Pure - There Is Something Holy In Salt.

If A Man, Sitting All Alone, Cannot Dream Strange Things, And Make Them Look Like Truth, He Need Never Try To Write Romances.

I Sometimes Fancy," Said Hilda, On Whose Susceptibility The Scene Always Made A Strong Impression, "that Rome--mere Rome--will Crowd Everything Else Out Of My Heart.