There Is Something Indecent In Words .

All Sins Have Their Origin In A Sense Of Inferiority Otherwise Called Ambition.

When A Man Mourns For Someone Who Has Played Him False, It Is Not For Love Of Her, But For His Own Humiliation At Not Having Deserved Her Trust.

The Closing Years Of Life Are Like The End Of A Masquerade Party, When The Masks Are Dropped.

There Comes A Day When, For Someone Who Has Persecuted Us, We Feel Only Indifference, A Weariness At His Stupidity. Then We Forgive Him.

But Here's The Worst Part: The Trick To Life Lies In Hiding From Those We Hold Most Dear How Much They Mean To Is; If Not, We'd Lose Them.